


The Anchor

by donnarafiki (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: harrydracobang, Depression, F/F, Friendship, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Muggle Studies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, eating problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/donnarafiki
Summary: Draco has to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Either that, or it’s back to Azkaban according to his parole agreement. Which all wouldn’t be that big of a problem, if only Pansy learned to keep her trap shut and Potter would put on a bloody shirt before leaving the showers. Honestly, he had enough to cope with inside his own head without green eyed gits messing with it as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally here! The day that I post my BB fic. Never thought I’d see that, but I’ll only bore you with the writing process at the end of the fic. For now I would just like to thank my amazing betas S, Ellis and S, and ofc my amazing artist<3
> 
> I would also like to add a more detailed content warning. This fic features eating struggles. Not disorders, but food and having problems eating do regularly feature in this fic, so if that triggers you please don’t read it. Also, as it says in the tags this fic deals with suicide and depression, so again if that triggers you please don’t read it.  
> Happy reading!
> 
> Ps. Everything italicized is a flashback, unless context says otherwise (-;

"I can't tell you. You don't - you can't - you can't explain man what's going on in your brain. 

You can't tell somebody how - wha-what's happening, what's going on in your- I can't."

-The Anchor, Bastille

 

_Waves crashed against the iron belly of the boat. Draco tried to recognize a pattern in them, but each time he’d almost found one, the waves changed their path. It made him wonder if they were heading somewhere at all. Maybe the boat was just sailing in circles now, alone on an ocean trying to drive him mad. A pointless mission, really. Draco had gone mad weeks ago. Azkaban could do that to a  teenager._

_“Mr. Malfoy.” The rusty iron door of the small, nauseating transport cell got pulled open, revealing a scrubby looking guard. Outside, the waves lessened considerably, though the floor still rocked a bit. “Follow me to the deck, please.”_

_The guard turned on his heels, leaving Draco to get up by himself. It was a tricky task. The cold metal bench under his arse still wobbled as he begged his legs to carry him. He could almost count his own ribs simply by looking down, but he didn’t. He didn’t ask for help either, when his protesting joints gave way and he fell to the ground. The helmsman had looked like he might kick him if he did so much as opened his mouth._

_Slowly, he climbed to his feet again and stumbled outside. The hallway was small, making it easy to seek support from the walls as he made his way onto the deck. The sun was hidden by clouds, but the light was still blinding. He had spent so many nights and days inside, it was as if his eyes didn’t believe there were no walls around him anymore. Anything further than ten feet was blurry. The deck was small though, and the rail surrounding it was close by. Draco held onto it for dear life as the boat made its way into the small, improvised prisoners harbour. He nearly fell again when the boat came to an abrupt halt, seemingly stopped by magic. The helmsman inside the little cabin out front looked back at him and laughed._

_Silly little Death Eater._

_As quickly as he could manage, he climbed onto the dock. He fell again when his vestibular wouldn’t get used to the lack of waves fast enough. Meanwhile the guard was already several yards ahead of him, walking faster with every step it seemed. Trying to remember his past grace, Draco got back on his feet. Then he focussed his eyes on the blurry shape of the guard, and began to walk._

_It was strange, being on the mainland again. He’d spent two long months in Azkaban, only leaving through the heavily guarded floo network one time to testify at his own trial. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t use the same floo to get off the hellish island now, but he wasn’t going to ask. There were more important things to worry about. Like catching up with the guard, and taking a closer look at his parole agreement so he would never have to return to that freezing hell ever again._

_“A bit more effort would be appreciated next time.” The guard grumbled when Draco finally reached the door of the concrete building. The place looked grim and unwelcoming, which fitted Draco’s mood perfectly. He was leaving hell, only to walk straight into the arms of a grieving community that wanted his head on a stick. Or at least some of them did. Others would take great pleasure in turning his life into a hell even the Dementors couldn’t match._

_“My apologies, sir.” He said, his voice shaking. He vividly remembered the hours of interrogating back in Azkaban, and the yelling of abuse from other prisoners. Dementors took away happiness, but they left anger well alone. Those two things had taught him that any kind of pride would be broken with an iron fist. To avoid trouble and pain, it was best to keep his head down, apologise, and move on._

_The guard seemed puzzled by his words for a moment, but then he shrugged and ignored them. “You didn’t have a wand coming in, so that won’t be returned. Most possessions you had when you were brought in here were confiscated by the Aurors, so that just leaves,” The guard pulled a black garment out from underneath his desk. “This.”_

_Draco couldn’t speak. His throat was squeezed shut as waves of ice cold panic crashed into him. He staggered back until the back of his head collided with the wall behind him, making a loud thud resonate through the building._

_Those were his Hogwarts robes. His battle robes. One of the sleeves was still scorned from the fiendfyre Potter had saved him from. The other had been soaked in blood, but they must have washed that off._

_“You don’t want it?” The guard raised an eyebrow, and for the first time Draco could spot some compassion on his face. He shook his head, dizziness almost overtaking him as he did so. “Very well then. I’ll have it disposed of. There’s only one more thing, which we found in one of the pockets.”_

_The guard slid a photograph over the desk. Skittish, like a wounded animal visiting a water well, Draco approached the desk. There, on the rough, dark wood, he could see his own face smile back at him. The photo had been taken about a year before he’d first gone off to Hogwarts. He was in the lavish gardens of the Manor, with his arm slung around Pansy. She was wearing a hideous yellow floppy dress, but despite that she laughed into the camera. Draco was too. They were childlike, innocent smiles, though his own grey eyes held more worry in them than they should. Courtesy of his father’s wonderful introduction into the world of politics and manipulation, which had started a year before. Still, he’d been happy then._

_Unburdened._

_Free._

_He longed to feel that way again._

_“Keep. I-, I’d like to keep that.” His cheeks heated as the guard gave him an odd look. His embarrassment didn’t stop him from snatching the picture off the desk and clutching it to his chest, though. “Thank you.”_

_“Just doing my job. Now if you’ll fill these out for me…” The guard gave him a stack of papers to sign, which Draco did. He had to re-try his signature several times before he got it right. His hands were cold and shaky, despite it being a hot July day. It would probably take weeks for the cold of the prison to leave his bones._

_“That will be all. You’re free to go now.” The guard announced when he finished the last form. He gestured to the door opening. Draco walked through it before he realized he had nowhere to go. His mother was still in hospital. She’d collapsed after being cleared of all charges, and was still recovering. The manor had been confiscated, though he wouldn’t want to come back there even if his life depended on it. And his father…_

_Was never going to leave Azkaban. Not alive, at least._

_And now Draco had nowhere to go. And no family to turn to except for an aunt he’d never met._

_He was about to start panicking when two sets of feet came round the side of the concrete bunker. One pair of heels, the other flats. A soft jingle accompanied each step, which he found out came from a set of long golden earrings. Earrings attached to a woman whose mere presence in that moment was enough to bring him to tears. “Pansy.”_

_“Draco.” His oldest friend in the whole wide world didn’t slow down as she came closer. Instead she simply collided with him. Then she stopped him from falling to the ground again with a hug so strong it almost broke his ribs. Though granted, not much was needed for that these days. “You look like death.”_

_“I feel dead.” But that was a lie. Draco felt anything but dead as his own arms came up around the Indonesian girl. Just like him she’s lost a lot of weight since the start of the war, making their hug more a collision of bones. But it was still indescribably amazing to have someone warm and loving in his arms for the first time in ages. It felt so good, he couldn’t even bring himself to care when heavy sobs started to rip through him, leaving a shaking boy in their wake._

_“I missed you.” Pansy whispered. She rubbed her nose against his chest as she tightened the hug._

I missed you too _, Draco wanted to say. But all that came out was just another sob._

_“Oh you guys are such pathetic losers.” Millicent, the owner of the flats, sniffled and stepped closer. Only when she wrapped her arms around them, did their embrace turn into a proper hug. At least she wasn’t a walking sack of bones. “I hate you both.”_

_“You love us.” Pansy’s voice was muffled against the filthy grey prison garb Draco wore. It really proved how much she cared for him. Normally Pansy wouldn’t touch filthy clothing with a ten foot pole. “We all know you love us, don’t lie Mills.”_

_“Alright, fine. I love you two.” Millicent rubbed his spine and Draco winced. He didn’t know what, but something hurt back there. His wince earned him two concerned looks, but he shook his head._ Not now. _He wasn’t ready to talk about it. The only thing he was ready for, was a bath and a warm bed and to not be left alone for at least a week. He really didn’t want to be alone._

_“Are you good enough to apparate?” Millicent left their hug, but kept one hand resting on his arm. “I warned my parents, we can get home in one go.”_

_At the mention of home, Draco opened his mouth. “I don’t-”_

_“You’re coming with me, Draco. Me and Pansy. Like I said, my mum and dad already know and agreed. My sisters all moved out in the last three years, so we have enough rooms to spare.” Draco opened his mouth again. He should at least try to refuse Millicent’s charity, even though he had nowhere else to go. “And you’re not protesting, because I won’t let you. You’re my friend, and this is what friends do for each other.”_

_“She means it, Draco.” Pansy pulled back a little to look him in the eye. Her face was tear stained, but determined all the same. “She took me in as well, when I couldn’t stand to be around my mother anymore. Your bed has been ready for weeks.”_

_“What happened with you and your mother?”_

_“I’ll explain later.” Pansy ended the hug, but kept an arm around his waist to steady him. Draco had never been more grateful for her presence. “Now, can you come with us? Side-along?”_

_“I think so.” He took a deep breath of fresh air. Some of his ribs protested that decision with passion, but it felt like his brain was too overwhelmed to process any more input. “I haven’t exactly been in this situation before. I don’t-, I don’t know what to do.”_

_“You don’t have to know Draco. Not right now. Now you just have to come with us and get better. And after that it’s time to learn a thing or two, but right now…” Millicent blinked to get the tears out of her eyes. “Right now all you have to do is hold my hand.”_

_Millie shot him a sympathetic smile and Draco winced, because he didn’t want sympathy from his friends. He didn’t want to need it, because he didn’t want to be a fuck-up or a burden on the first place. Accepting the fact that wanting things wasn’t going to make his bad decisions go away was a hard pill to swallow. But maybe he could wait for someone to hand him some water before he tried. After all, he was no longer alone now. For the first time in two years, he was no longer alone. He could be open and upfront about everything and he didn’t have to lock everything away. That prospect made things just a smidge easier to bear._

_He smiled at his two friends. “Alright. I’ll hold your hand.”_

* * *

 “Rise and shine, Draco! The sun is out, the weather is nice and you still have four hours left to live!” Millicent greeted him loudly. Draco ignored her, and remained where he was; lying perfectly still in bed. He didn’t want to get up. Ever. And though he knew pretending to be dead had never worked on Millicent before, it was worth a shot.

“Oh come on you big fat baby, you can dread it all you like, but unless you want to violate your parole agreement, you have to go back to Hogwarts.” Milly stood up from the edge of his bed and got ready to pull the covers away. A tiny smirk tugged on Draco’s lips. He knew it would come to this, which was exactly why he hadn’t bothered with pyjamas the night before. And indeed, soon enough cold air came into contact with his bare arse as Milly screeched and ran out of the room.

It served her right for waking him up so cheerfully. Especially today.

Saying that he dreaded returning to Hogwarts more than he’d dreaded his war trial was a lie. However, it made a pretty damn great second. Mostly because it would just be him and Pansy returning for their so called eighth year. Millicent was going to help in her mother’s muggle bakery together with Greg. She didn’t want to return to a place that had wrongly branded her as an evil pureblood bully from day one, just because she was a Slytherin.

Greg just didn’t want to be reminded of Vince all the time. He still couldn’t stop crying when someone mentioned him. Blaise had fucked off to Merlin knew where after testifying on Draco’s trial, and never returned any of their owls anymore. Theo was still in St. Mungo’s after his last suicide attempt. He’d said he might return for his NEWT’s when the hospital deemed him fit enough to leave, but Draco hoped he’d steer clear of the school. It would be much better for his friend if he got a fresh start somewhere new, far away from the place that had triggered his suicide attempts in the first place.

Draco wanted more than anything to stay as far away from Hogwarts as he could as well. His parole agreement left him no choice though; Finish eighth year, don’t leave Britain for five years, don’t do anything illegal, and ditch your prejudiced and racist beliefs. If he failed any of those things, there was a ten year ticket to Azkaban waiting for him. And though he might dread Hogwarts, Azkaban was infinitely worse.

“Draco, did you just flash Millicent?” Draco noticed the bounce of her ponytail before he saw the rest of his visitor. Pansy’s new and longer hairstyle rather suited her. “She lets you live in her house, with her family, eating her food and using her old bedroom for two months, and as a thank you you flash her?”

“I don’t know what you mean by flashing.” Draco rolled over and caught the boxers Pansy threw at his head with a natural grace. The smirk on his face was rather less natural, but looking as scared on the outside as he felt on the inside wouldn’t help him with anything. “But if it’s a comment on me sleeping naked, that wasn’t a thank you. I was just rather hot last night.”

“You’re not. Never have been, never will be. Temperature wise or other” Pansy tossed a pair of socks and a shirt at his head. It was blue, muggle and read _Keep calm and carry on_. Draco pulled it over his head without pausing for a second. Maybe his presence at platform 9¾ would offend people less if he looked muggle.

That was his goal now; Not offending anyone. Not getting anyone’s attention. Not being noticed at all. Even though he now stayed with Millicent, who had mixed magical-muggle parents and lived in a muggle suburb of London, owls could still reach him. Pansy had figured out a way to dismantle howlers pretty quickly, but the message in them was still clear; show your face and we’ll give you a taste of your own medicine. Looking muggle was the least of his problems.

“Rude.” Draco rolled out of bed and put the rest of his clothing on. He struggled a bit with trying his shoelaces, as he wasn’t used to doing them without magic. He did have a wand now, an old one from his mother, but most days he hadn’t managed to get out of bed, let alone get dressed. The label for his mental state was unknown to him, but it was far from ‘perfectly healthy’.

When he straightened himself and looked at Pansy she seemed almost bored, leaning against the doorframe in her wide jeans and crop top nicked from Millicent’s closet. But Draco knew her better than that. “How did you sleep?”

“Not. Or barely. Just drifted a bit with my eyes closed.” She shrugged, as though insomnia wasn’t a constant drain on both of them. “But Millicent slept like a baby, and that’s what matters.”

Pansy pushed herself off the doorframe and came towards him, hands deep in the pockets of her mom jeans. Draco took a deep breath as a flare of guilt ripped through his chest. He was the reason why Pansy couldn’t just stay here with her girlfriend. Why she couldn’t forget about the war and start a new chapter of her life.

“You know you don’t-”

“Shut it, I’m going to.” Draco was cut off, as expected. Pansy threw her arms around him and held him close. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’d rather be anywhere but on that train, but I’ll be damned if you’re not on it. And I’ll be damned if I’m not on it with you. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Draco.”

“Bloody pest.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her skinny waist. She was too thin, but then so was he. Azkaban, war, or getting kicked out for being a lesbian could do that to a person. “But I’ll be on that train. And so will you, as you keep on telling me. Though I still think you’re an idiot for coming with me.”

“And I still think you’re an idiot for thinking I’d ever leave you out of my sight. We both know how that ended last time.” Pansy broke the hug, and gave him a sharp look. Draco refused to meet it. ‘Last time’ he’d left for the manor during Christmas without telling Pansy. When he finally came back, two weeks after the end of the break, he’d been within an inch of his life. He still wasn’t sure what had happened during those weeks, but he tried not to think about it too much. The gaps in his memory probably weren’t missing moments of happy carol singing.

“Thank you.” Draco pulled Pansy right back into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“Yes yes yes. Thank you, I love you, I wouldn’t know what to do without you, you’re the most amazing person in the known universe, blah blah blah. I get the gist, dickhead.” Pansy wrestled herself out of the hug again and shoved him in the ribs. “Sucky sentimental Slytherin.”

“Bony bitchy bint.” Draco shoved her back, glad to forget the dreaded train ride for a moment.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him and wrapped an arm around his waist. She was too small to reach his shoulders, something Draco teased her with at every opportunity he got. “Come on, you big Drama Queen. Let’s at least get you some breakfast before we start the theater. I refuse to deal with you when you’re hungry _and_ depressed.”

“Fine.” It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes now. “Lead the way, princess.”

* * *

  _“How long have you been staying here?” Draco asked after acclimatizing to the bath. He’d wanted to crawl in bed immediately after arriving at the guest home, but Milly’s mom had insisted they’d treat his injuries first. He wasn’t sure what to make of Mrs. Bulstrode, but he didn’t have to yet. As she had told him herself, their main priority now was getting him clean, healed and well-rested. Everything else would come later._

_“Since the twenty fifth of May.” Pansy replied, somewhat reluctantly. She sat kneeled next to the small bath, enabling her to wash his hair without getting herself wet. He felt ridiculous and weak, sitting there completely starkers as Pansy poured hot water over his head. But he also knew that he couldn’t do it himself. His stamina was completely gone._

_“Why?” He noticed Pansy was avoiding his gaze, and he feared the reason behind it. They’d been in their nappies together, had been friends for over a decade, and Draco trusted her so much he didn’t even feel vulnerable as she helped him get clean, he only felt a bit stupid. What could possibly be so bad that she didn’t want to tell him about it?_

_“I had a fight with my mother.”  Pansy picked up a comb and started working on his tangled hair. She paid close attention to her own movements, using the task as a way to avoid his eyes. “She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. During the war, the battle or anything. She just kept nagging on about the latest article for Witch Weekly she was writing, as if nothing had changed. And after living with that for a few weeks I just sort of… snapped.”_

_Draco kept quiet, hoping the silence would encourage Pansy to keep talking. And eventually, it did. “I was quite nasty, but she was way worse in her response. I told her you make me feel more loved than she does. She told me you ruined her family and me from day one. Said I was a huge disappointment, and that she didn’t recognize her daughter in me. When she accused me of sleeping with you, or_ the enemy _as she said it… I might have told her I fancy women over men. And then I ran off to find Millicent. Took me two days to get to her, and I was a total mess once I did. It wasn’t pretty.”_

 _Draco blinked, struggling to let that information sink in. He felt quite awful for causing a rift between Pansy and her mother, but he was distracted from that pain by Pansy’s other confession. She fancied women. Which was… Not unheard off in the magical community, but usually associated with old ugly wood witches living in the Black Forest. Not eighteen year olds, not Slytherin’s and_ definitely _not Draco’s pureblood best friend. “Do you… are you and Millie together?”_

_“Yes.” Pansy nodded, still avoiding his gaze._

_Draco bit his bottom lip. “Are you… happy? Together?”_

_“Very much.” Pansy finally let go of his hair, and sat back. Draco carefully shifted so he could face her. She looked torn between fear and love. Love for Millie, fear for him. For what he’d say. “What do you-, Do you mind?”_

_“No.” He didn’t have to think about his answer. He was too loyal to his friends to reject them over something like this. Especially Pansy. They had been through too much shit for that. “Not if you’re happy. You deserve to be happy, Pans.”_

_“So do you.” Pansy nearly launched herself at him, pulling him into a hug even though that got her clothes and the bathroom floor completely soaked. “Fuck, Draco, so do you. So do both of us.” She released him from the hug but kept his hands in her own. “I want to make sure you’ll be happy again. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Seeing you hurt.”_

_“It’s not your job to make sure I’m happy, Pans.” For the first time in months, a genuine smile crept onto his face. He could not have wished for a better best friend, and he definitely didn’t deserve her love after everything he’d put her through, but damn was he grateful to have her._

_“I know.” Pansy sighed deeply, and some of the intensity of the moment leaked away. It left no emptiness though, only determination. “But it is my ambition.”_

_“Well then,” Draco squeezed Pansy’s hands. For a couple of blissful minutes he forgot how sore his body was, how deep the trauma had sunk into his brain and what a huge amount of challenges and struggles were still waiting for him. “I’d better prepare myself to be happy again then. It can’t take long if you put your mind to it.”_

* * *

 

Draco had always thought that wizards or witches who married muggles were either secret squibs or crazy. However, he had to change his opinion when he first met Millicent’s parents. The only crazy Mr. Bulstrode was, was crazy in love with his wife. A wife who owned and ran a bakery in the outskirts of London, and who tried to break the table with the weight of her baked goods every day.

That morning was no different. In fact Mrs Bulstrode had outdone herself so much, Draco would have sworn the hardwood table actually bent a little in the middle. Which of course only made him feel worse about his lack of appetite.

“Just one croissant, Draco. They’re easy to digest.” Millicent dumped a croissant on his plate and glared at him until he took a bite. His stomach rolled in protest, but he ignored it. If he focussed hard enough, he usually managed to hold it down.

“I don’t remember heading off to my last year at Hogwarts.” Mr. Bulstrode joked to lighten the mood.

“That’s because you never went, dad.” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Something Draco isn’t at liberty to do, so I really don’t think bringing it up will help an awful lot.”

“Neither will forgetting the salt while making bread, yet you still did that yesterday.” Millicent’s mother chipped in, which earned her an eyeroll. The family of three kept on quarreling as Draco and Pansy ate their breakfast in silence. It helped a lot to listen to them. When the banter came to an end, he’d stomached an entire croissant, one egg and two glasses of juice. It felt like a small victory.

“Are we going to change now or on the train?” Pansy asked as she started cleaning up the table. Draco’s stomach twisted at the prospect of wearing robes again. He hadn’t done that since the battle.

“Train. If we enter through platform nine and ten and look muggle, I might not get cursed on sight.” Draco answered lightly, pretending not to be bothered by the oncoming storm of hatred and hostility. He had led that storm once, as head bully of the school. If there was anyone not allowed to feel bad about being bullied and hated, it was him. He’d brought everything upon himself.

“Draco, we talked about this. We’ll arrive an hour early, you charm your hair brown and no one will recognize you until you’re safely inside the train.” Millicent covered his slightly shaking hand with her own. “Trust me. You’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” Millicent smiled at him. “Now get your arse moving before we miss the train! I want plenty of time to enjoy your face when we get you two into my mom’s car for the first time!”

And with that, Draco pushed his nerves and fear down. He was going to enjoy his last moments with Millie, before heading off to Hogwarts. And there, he was going to apologise, keep his head down and morph into a wallflower. Even his own father had started ignoring him during his last weeks in Azkaban. He was sure he could pull the same stunt with people who hated him more, and cared for him less.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Do you have a subscription to The Prophet?” Draco had been meaning to ask that, ever since he’d felt like his mind was somewhat in the right place again. Or at least all parts of his mind were now close to the same place, instead of scattered around half the country re-living fifteen different nightmares at the same time.  _

_ “Why do you ask? That rag is pure filth, gossip and speculation.” Pansy noted as she paged through the latest edition of OK! magazine. “Did you know they made Skeeter head editor of the front page a month ago? I swear to Circe, they’re going to run out of all caps letters and exclamation marks soon if she keeps at it like this.” _

_ “So you do have a subscription.” Draco said sharply. His mood worsened a little when no victorious feeling spread through him, the way it used to do on the rare occasions he outsmarted Pansy. He liked to tell himself that he was just bruised and too skinny these days. Things rattled in the upstairs department so much he was scared to think about it. “Can I read them?”  _

_ “No.” There was no room for discussion in Pansy’s voice. “I can give you the gist of it, but you’re not reading that crap.” _

_ “You don’t get to decide what I do and do not read, Pans.” Draco glared at her. He’d been deprived of too many things; His wand, his good name, his ability to go where he pleased. This shouldn’t add to it as well. “You’re not my mother.” _

_ “Don’t care, you’re still not reading The Prophet.” Pansy smacked her magazine shut, sat up and shot him what was possibly the most sincere and serious look Draco had ever seen on her. “I’m going to protect you from other people’s ignorance for as long as I can. I couldn’t manage that for Theo, but I’ll be damned if I can’t do it for you. I’m not having two friends on the suicide ward.” _

_ “Theo-, Theo’s on the suicide ward? What did he do? What happened?” Draco felt weak in the knees, even though he was lying in bed. “How do I not know this? Why didn’t you tell me?” _

_ “You were barely alive yourself after you got here. It wasn’t the right time for a bad news conversation.” Pansy grabbed his hands but he pulled them free again, so Pansy just left them. “But you’ll have to hear it sooner or later.” _

_ “No, I have to hear it now.” He wanted to be mad at Pansy, but all he could feel was worry about Theo. He’d been one of his closest friends, especially during the last three years. The thought that something had happened to him was horrifying.  _

_ “And you will, just remember to breathe while I’m talking, alright?” Draco hated the almost motherly tone Pansy used, but he agreed anyway. And then he took a deep breath because he had indeed stopped taking in oxygen for a bit. “Theo went back to his father’s house after the battle. He said he’d go to his grandmother, but he’d only done that to get us off his back. He still replied to our letters though, so we didn’t suspect anything to be wrong, but… When he stopped writing back, and Millie and I went looking for him. He was completely catatonic when he found him. Didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge our presence. Just rocked back and forth mumbling nonsense. We, Millie and I, tried to take him to St. Mungo’s but he refused to cooperate and we couldn’t move him while he was having a panic attack. He allowed us to take him here though, to Millie’s home. After a few days he seemed to be getting better. And then I went to find a glass of water in the middle of the night and he was in the bathtub. Unconscious, wrists slashed. That was about a week before you got out. He’s been in St. Mungo’s ever since.” _

_ “Circe’s tits.” Draco reached out for Pansy’s hand himself these time, and she immediately intertwined their fingers and squeezed. The news left him feeling numb. Theo hadn’t been happy long before the war, but suicide… It was basically unheard of in pureblood society. The most dishonourable death one could find. Not that he cared about that at all. He just wanted his friend to not want to die. He didn’t deserve it. If anyone deserved it, it was him and no one else. _

_ “Draco, can you please promise me something?” Pansy got his attention back with her urgent tone and squeeze of his palm. “Promise me you’ll tell me it you ever feel like doing that. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night or if I’m in the bath or with Millie or whatever. Just tell me. Please.” _

_ “Of course.” Tears turned his voice into a whisper, and soon enough Pansy joined him at his side. He didn’t think he’d ever kill himself. Not that his life was a party, but he feared death too much. Still, there had been times… But he wouldn’t. He had Pansy and Millie now. They wouldn’t allow it.  _

_ “I don’t want to lose any more friends.” Pansy sniffed, and Draco pulled her into a bony hug. “I miss Vince every day. Despite the way he acted last year he was still…” _

_ “Still a friend.”  _ And I couldn’t keep him safe _. But he didn’t say that. Just held Pansy and waited for the sharpness of the pain to subside. Because he knew it would never leave him. None of it would.  _

* * *

Muggle cars were better than boats, Draco decided as they slowly drove deeper into London. The tinted windows gave him plenty of opportunity to spy on other people without anyone seeing him, and the floor only wobbled a bit when they went over traffic humps or potholes. The only problem was that the large Mazda smelled a bit, but he could live with that. As long as it didn’t reek of dead rats and sour unwashed bodies, Draco could handle just about anything.

“Is that woman wearing a bikini top? Right in the middle of the street?” Pansy leaned over him and pointed at a flamboyantly dressed woman walking by. “I’m just convinced now. All muggles are sluts.”

“I’m a muggle.” Mrs. Bulstrode pointed out. Lucky for Pansy, her dark complexion didn’t show too much of the fierce blush that spread across her cheeks. “Not that I take offence. If being a slut makes you happy and you’re safe about it, I don’t see why it has to be a bad thing. The entire culture of telling girls that-” 

“Mo-hom.” Millicent interrupted, for what was probably the millionth time that day. “I love you, I know you’re a feminist and that you’re trying to give Draco and Pansy a good example of proper parenting, but you don’t have to go off on a social justice rant every time someone says something about anything.”

“Alright, alright. I was just saying.” Mrs. Bulstrode chuckled and rolled her eyes at her daughter. “But you’re probably right. King’s Cross is right around the corner anyway.” 

As soon as he heard that an icy panic took hold of his insides. He shivered despite the high temperature in the car. With fearful reluctance he checked the time. Traffic had slowed them down and it was now a quarter past ten. If they hurried they could still be half an hour early, but the platform was probably going to be crowded anyway. He wasn’t looking forward to confirming those suspicions. 

“Oh relax, Draco. If anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll punch them in the face, okay?” Draco smiled weakly at Millicent. It was a kind offer, but her light tone did show how little Millie understood of his fear. Not that he blamed her for that. She hadn’t been around during seventh year to see the horrors of the war with her own eyes. Her parents had deemed it too dangerous for a half-blood and kept her hidden away at home. 

“And we won’t do the goodbye’s on the platform.” Pansy exchanged a look with Millicent. “Because we’re doing that now, right?”

Millicent nodded, and pulled something out of her pocket. It was two letters, or rather two envelopes made out of unnaturally white thin paper. Draco was never going to get used to the bleached wood pulp after a childhood filled with parchment. “Here.” Milly handed one over to him. “Don’t open them until you’ve boarded the train. And no peeking!” 

The last bit was aimed at Pansy, who huffed in offence. “I would never. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“You’re awful.” Millicent laughed and pulled Pansy in for a gentle kiss. Draco still found it odd when they did that. Both because they were girls, and because they had a reputation of punching people, not kissing them. But however strange the sight was, Draco was still happy for them. After the horrors of the war he couldn’t imagine having a problem with something as innocent and happy as a consenting kiss. His upbringing might have taught him that something like that was for married women and their husbands, but it was becoming more and more clear to him now that his upbringing should be thrown out with the trash and set on fire. And he he would do just that, as soon as he figured out how to ditch his upbringing without ditching himself with it.

“Alright, time to stop consuming each other’s faces!” Mrs. Bulstrode called out as she stopped the car at the Kiss and Ride. “We’ve arrived.”

“Mo-hom. We’re just kissing.” Millie gave her mother the evil eye. “Can’t you just be normal for two seconds?”

“Nope.” Her mother shook her head with a smile. The she turned around in her seat to give her two guests a proper goodbye. “Pansy, love, it’s been great having you in our family, and as long as Millicent allows it you’re always welcome back.” 

“I might not allow it if you keep embarrassing me like this.” Millie glared at her mother again but in return the woman just smiled.

“Thanks ma’am.” Pansy gave her a curd nod, before giving in to her feelings and reaching forward for a hug. “It’s been an amazing stay. I wish I’d done it sooner. Both of us, in fact. It would have prevented a lot of trouble.”

“That it would have.” Draco muttered, before holding out his hand for Mrs. Bulstrode. She was having none of it though, and used the hand to pull him into a hug as well. His back protested the awkward angle, but he told it to shut up. His mother was the only adult who had ever hugged him like this, and he rather enjoyed the feeling. “Thank you for your care and hospitality. I would have been quite lost without it. ” 

“Only for a while, I’m sure your mother would have arranged something eventually.” Mrs. Bulstrode gave his hand one more squeeze before letting go. “Now remember, you’re a student at that school of yours, and you have the same rights as everybody else. If someone tries to violate those rights, you go to a teacher. I refuse to believe they all hate you. And as you’ve pointed out before, people can hardly hate you more for snitching, so be a snitch if that’s what it takes to stay safe, love.”

Draco could only nod as Millie’s mother smiled at him. It was such a strange feeling to have an adult who wasn’t his mother look out for his personal safety. He didn’t really know what to do with it. Nodding seemed to be enough though. “Take care of yourself, and each other. If you need someone to vent or talk to, Millie and I are here for you. Don’t forget that you deserve to be here.” 

That last comment had been more aimed at Draco, but it was Pansy who responded to it. “We’ll remember, and remind each other. And we’ll be in touch.”

“That’s all I ask.” Mrs Bulstrode fired up the engine again, and he, Millicent and Pansy got out of the car. It was crowded outside, but he ignored that in favour of focusing on his trunk. Somehow Pansy had managed to pry it out of the school’s hands two weeks after Draco had gotten out of Azkaban. A great relief, as it carried most of his personal belongings. 

“I’ll pick you up in ten, Mills. Be safe!” And with that, the Mazda drove off. Pansy quickly drew her wand and discreetly cast some charms on his hair to turn it brown, the magic hidden by the moving crowd around them. Now there was very little time and very little space left between Draco and platform 9¾. Automatically, his heartbeat sped up and his hands grew cold. 

“Come on then.” Pansy linked their arms together and forced him to start walking. “Let’s get on with it. The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll be safe.” 

* * *

 

_ Draco stared at the ceiling as Pansy’s chest rose and fell next to him. She looked peaceful in her sleep, which was a comfort. According to Millie she went out like a light when they slept together. He’d been afraid she might have nightmares next to him though. Their last year together hadn’t exactly been nice and quiet.  _

_ “Hey Draco.” Startled, he looked up, only to find Millie in the door opening. She was holding two steaming mugs of something, and that something smelled heavenly. It surprised Draco a little. He hadn’t been able to stomach much since his return from Azkaban two weeks before. He’d always been a difficult eater, but the sheer amounts of stress his body was under now made his stomach disagree with almost everything. Often it was just easier not to bother with it at all. _

_ “Hi.” Came his whispered reply. Millicent walked closer and put the mugs on his nightstand. Or rather her own nightstand. He was staying in Millicent’s old room after all. His own was far away in a mansion he never wanted to see again. His childhood and the home that came with it was forever gone now. _

_ “Can I come under the covers?” Millie asked after shooting a glance at Pansy. Draco nodded and expected her to spoon her girlfriend as soon as she crawled under the duvet. She didn’t though. Instead she sat up against the headboard the way Draco did himself and intertwined their hands.  _

_ “You’re very cold.” She squeezed his fingers. “I made warm milk with honey by the way. Mom usually doesn’t let me have anything sweet after ten, but you need the calories so she made an exception.”  _

_ “That’s very kind of her.” Draco answered on automatic pilot. He was rather confused by Millie’s hand-holding. She was dating Pansy, why would she do that? Or was holding hands not a big deal in muggle culture?  _

_ If he was being honest Draco had to say muggle culture was giving him a bit of a headache. After two years of war and two months in jail he knew his deeply rooted views on blood-purity and muggles needed an update, so he wanted to make an effort to understand Millie’s family. However, making that effort now, fresh out of Azkaban, might be a bit too ambitious. Not that that would stop him. Anything to stop his mind from replaying war scenes over and over again in his head was met with a warm welcome.  _

_ “I just want to keep you warm, you know? I’m still very much gay.” Millie smiled at him in the half-dark. Then she reached over him and grabbed a mug. Draco followed suit. He had to make the best of the rare occasions when his stomach accepted food.  _

_ “Do you love her?” Draco asked. He nodded at Pansy, and got a spell of dizziness in return. Before he knew what he was doing, his head rested on Millie’s shoulder.  _

_ “I think I do.” Millie’s smile told him there wasn’t really much thinking involved anymore. “There’s something so lively about her you know? So fierce. She makes me feel better about myself and my body just by looking at me and smiling. And she is of course also very cute.”  _

_ Draco let out a chuckle. “Cute? Not really. But she is very persuasive. And amazing.”  _

_ Millie locked eyes with him for a moment, before they said in sync, “Don’t tell her I said that.” _

* * *

The first hex to hit the window luckily didn’t break it, giving Draco and Pansy some time to reinforce the glass and close the curtains. Not soon after that the first egg collided with the outside of the train, clearly meant for them though the aim was terrible.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t try out for the quidditch team. That would be a disaster.” Draco muttered as the yolk dripped off the red paint outside. “Though maybe it could be a good thing if they’re not in Slytherin.”

“Of course they’re not in Slytherin.” Pansy cast a strong  _ Notice Me Not _ charm on the window and pulled the curtains further shut. “Slytherin’s wouldn’t egg you. They don’t hate you, and even if they did, they’d be more original than this.”

“I’m not so sure about Slytherins not hating me. I kind of ruined the last bit of respect our house still had.” Draco pulled his knees up to his chin as Pansy shut the drapes on the other side of the compartment to shield them from the train hallway. Then she lit up some lamps to keep out the dark. “And I wouldn’t put it past eleven year old me to egg someone. I probably would have egged Potter if I’d known it was an option.”

“Eleven year old you was a nasty piece of shit.” Pansy chuckled, probably remembering the good old days of somewhat innocent, though also quite prejudiced pranks. “But I think most eleven year olds are pieces of shit. Especially when they’ve been raised by your father. I don’t think you can blame yourself too much for it.”

“And I don’t think saying my mistakes were in fact not mine is a very good idea. I fucked up. I made very bad decisions based on a less than perfect upbringing, but they still were my mistakes.” Draco flinched as something soft splattered against the window outside. “And I’m going to apologise for them. All of them.”

Pansy huffed. “Everything? That will take you years.”

“And so what if it does? No one will ever hire me here until I prove myself to be a better person and I have nothing else to do.” He rested his chin on his knees, stubbornly avoiding Pansy’s gaze. “Besides, I feel bad about it. About what I did. I was awful to people for no reason other than that I thought it was fun, and because I thought I was better than them. I’m not. If anything I’m worse. They deserve an apology, even if they might not want to listen to one at all. And I know people might not allow me to finish talking before they hex me, but I can’t just assume that’s what they’ll do and not try it. Making assumptions about people hasn’t exactly panned out well for me so far.”

Pansy didn’t respond, and after a while (and several more wet splashes against the window) curiosity won it from his fear to be judged, and he looked up. Pansy was frowning, her eyes searching fascinated as they traveled over his curled up form. 

“You’ve changed.” She said, as if she only noticed now. Which, he had to admit later, meant she was a lot faster than he was. “You’ve grown. As a person, I mean.” She suddenly got up and went to sit next to him, her face now mere inches away from his own. And all the while she never stopped studying him. “I think I like it. It’s strange, to see someone change from up close, someone you’ve known all your life. But I do like it.” 

Draco was very unsure what to think of that. On one hand,  _ yes _ , of course he’d changed. Of course he  _ was _ changing. He’d fought in a war for Merlin’s sake, and on the wrong side too, where his life had been filled with constant fear and nightmares that didn’t stop even after the war. But on the other hand,  _ no _ . He was still the same Draco. He had the same friends, went to the same school, looked the same, and though he knew damn sure that his prejudiced racist beliefs were wrong, he hadn’t lost them yet.

He hadn’t managed to find the switch to turn all of that off. Not that he wasn’t looking, but it was just very hard to find. The air of entitlement and superiority he’d been raised with was still right at the front of his mind, whispering things about how muggleborns had deserved their losses, or that he didn’t owe the war victims anything. He was a member of the sacred twenty eight, he was better than anyone. Except he wasn’t, and every time those whispers reached him he got a little nauseous. Maybe that was why eating was such a challenge.  

Though the biggest issue was that he didn’t  _ want _ to change. Change was scary. He knew himself from before the war. Knew he’d been an arsehole, but also knew he’d been happy. Had been faring well at school. Had made his parents happy. He’d had a certain and safe future laid out for him. And he had no way of knowing if those things could also be true for a changed Draco. If he could be happy when he left the prejudice of his upbringing, and the certainty that came with being a pureblood. 

Admitting he  _ had  _ changed, admitting that he was  _ still _ changing, was like sailing out of a harbour without an anchor or a steer, into an unknown ocean. A body of water that would probably crush him when the first storm hit. Getting in that boat was also the only way to find a better place. Draco from the past would never wear muggle clothes, step into a muggle car, or decide to apologise to those he’d wronged. Which meant that he was already sailing, his anchor far away in the harbour he’d called his home. A harbour that was familiar, but also on fire. He knew he couldn’t stay there, but that didn’t make him dread leaving any less. 

“What’s that big brain of yours thinking about?” Pansy finally stopped looking at him like she was the female version of Sherlock Holmes, and threw an arm over his shoulders. Outside what appeared to be a tomato hit the window. McGonagall ought to be proud of the students’ transfiguration skills. They probably hadn’t brought eggs and rotting fruit with them from home. “Ey? What’s the matter?” 

“I’m scared.” Draco admitted. He let out a shuddering breath as he slumped against Pansy. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to expect.”

“None of us do.” Pansy folded her legs under herself and pulled him into a hug. “But that’s not a bad thing. Better to stray from a path you know is wrong, than stay on it just because you’re scared you might get lost.”

Draco snorted, even though he took some comfort from her words. “Trying to become a philosopher, are we?”

“Oh shut up.” Pansy shoved him. “I’m just trying to help you here.” 

“I know.” Draco kicked off his shoes, urged Pansy to sit a bit further away and lay his head in her lap. He’d started doing that at the end of fifth year, and he thought it was one of the most comfortable places on earth. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Pansy replied, looking all together too smug for his liking. But she made up for that by pulling his half long hair out of its confinements, before she started braiding it. “You know, I think it’s a good thing. Apologising. Gives you the best odds for earning a second chance.” 

“But that’s not why I want to do it.”

“No, that’s not why you want to do it. You want to do it because you genuinely feel bad, changed your ways, and hope to improve the lives of those you harmed.” Pansy cited back at him. “I’m getting the feeling that this new version of Draco is not just a peacemaker, but also someone who could actually enjoy hanging out with Granger and her minions.” 

“You mean Weasley and Potter?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Men. Don’t talk to me about men. I became a lesbian because you all suck.”

“I think only the gay ones suck.” Draco chuckled, suddenly feeling rather giddy. It seemed some of Mrs. Bulstrode’s rants had rubbed off on him. “But the fact that straight men don’t suck is probably part of the problem.”

“Definitely.” Pansy agreed. Outside the train whistle blew, and the doors started slamming shut. A few seconds later, the Hogwarts Express started making her way to the Scottish highlands, a safe route ahead for the first time in years. For some, at least.

* * *

_ “It’s the strangest thing, don’t you think? To discover that your upbringing hasn’t always taught you the truth.” Draco was a bit startled by the remark. Mr. Bulstrode hadn’t spoken to him before. He was all kind smiles and silent cups of tea, but no words. Maybe he only spoke when his wife and daughter weren’t there to say it for him. Those two were out in the bakery with Pansy now, leaving Draco behind with the first muggle book he’d ever read; Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. _

_ “That your upbringing has mostly told you lies, you mean.” He looked up to Millie’s youthful father. The man was ten years younger than his wife, but his eyes were older. This was a man with a lot of personal history. “I’ve discovered I can be slow on the uptake, but two years was more than enough to make things click.” _

_ “Well, then you’re faster than me.” Mr. Bulstrode smiled at him, which Draco didn’t like. He didn’t want anyone’s compassion. And he didn’t want to hear that Millie’s father used to be prejudiced and that he was therefore an example that people could change. Mr. Bulstrode might have called some people mudblood. Draco had joined a terrorist group and tried to kill and torture people. It wasn’t the same thing.  _

_ “It’s okay to take your time, you know.” _

_ Draco raised an eyebrow at the man. _

_ “I mean you shouldn’t expect your prejudice to disappear overnight. It has seeped into your habits, your mannerisms, your reflexes. You can quit smoking cold turkey but you’ll reach for your nonexistent fags for years to come. And that’s okay. Just as long as you keep trying to better yourself.” Mr. Bulstrode reached for his hand but backed off when Draco grew tense. As a replacement for the touch he smiled at him, in the exact same way Lucius never had. “According to muggle science it takes two to eight months to form new habits. Give yourself at least that much time, alright?”  _

_ “Alright.” Something tugged the corner of his mouth up a bit, though he couldn’t be sure what. He smiled so rarely these days, his brain was too surprised by the action to recognize it. “Thank you, sir.” _

_ “Oh, just Patrick is fine.” Mr. Patrick Bulstrode got up and smiled at him again. “Now, can I interest you in another  cup of tea?” _

* * *

 

“Well, that was a warm welcome.” Pansy said as she threw the curtains open again. They weren’t likely to get egged anymore now that they were moving. To their great surprise, the glass was completely spotless. Nothing on it suggested that it had been covered in little bits of fruit and yolk just moments before. 

“Must be the magic of the train.” Draco muttered as he got to his feet and looked out the window. It showed the busy streets of muggle London, full of people who didn’t see them or the train. And for the past seven years, Draco hadn’t seen them either. Now though, after living with a muggle woman for over a month, he was starting to get some respect for the non-magical folks. They were incredibly inventive, despite their lack of magic. 

“Probably.” Pansy shrugged and suddenly stuck her hand in one of Draco’s pockets. A moment later she pulled out his letter. “I think it’s time for us to open Millicent’s gift. You need to cheer up.”

“I need to not be hated so much people egg me, but I get your point.” Draco sat down again. He wasn’t very curious about Millie’s letter. Being locked up in Azkaban meant that he’d gotten pretty accustomed to feeling worse than terrible, but there was something about young kids egging him that made him feel even more awful. Like large hands were squeezing his insides, giving him a feeling of guilt mixed with insecurity, anxiety and hopelessness. It made him want to curl up in bed and never emerge from it again.

And sometimes he was tempted to do even worse. 

He wasn’t allowed to do any of that though. Not unless he wanted to go right back to prison or face Pansy’s wrath.

“Here, open up.” Pansy pushed the letter into his hands and then went to grab her own. Draco had to admit it was really nice of Millie to do this for them. Even his historically low mood couldn’t stop him from seeing that.

 

_ Dear Draco, _

 

_ It’s been a marvelous adventure having you and Pansy live in my house. I never thought that would happen. When I got into Slytherin I was determined to show everyone muggles were okay people. When I got bullied for that very same thing just five minutes after arriving in the common room for the first time, I was determined to just fit in.  _

_ I’m not a social justice warrior like my mother, and I don’t think it would have helped anyone an awful lot if I had been. Neither one of you were open-minded enough to really accept and experience muggle culture before these months. It breaks my heart that it took a war to get you here, but that’s not what I want to focus on right now. What I do want to focus on, is the progress you made.  _

_ You were barely human when we picked you up from that harbour. I’d like to think I hid it well, but I was quite scared you wouldn’t make it. Especially during the first week. You seemed so broken each time I looked at you. Like there was no spark left. But somehow there was, and the last two weeks there have been times when I almost forgot what you’ve been through. You’re stronger and  more resilient than people give you credit for, and that gives me hope for the future. _

_ I’m sorry that I didn’t come with you guys, but I had to choose for myself. My mental health is more important than my education. I know you understand my decision, but I just wanted it said one more time.  _

_ One last thing Draco. I just want to tell you that you deserve a second chance. You deserve to go back to Hogwarts, take your final exams and have a good time. Anyone who tells you otherwise deserves to get punched in the face. I know you won’t punch them in the face, because you’re not a brash Gryffindor, but that doesn’t mean they deserve it any less.  _

 

_ X -Millicent _

 

“Mine’s terribly sappy.” Pansy said after a couple minutes of silence. She was blinking very fast to stop the tears from ruining her mascara. “Yours?” 

“Even worse.” He wrapped an arm around Pansy and pulled her close. “We don’t deserve Millicent now, do we?” 

“Nope.” Pansy chuckled. “Not even a little bit.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ His hands wanted to grip the edge of the toilet seat, but all the strength had seeped out of his muscles. Even his gag reflex suffered from that, and after a few more hiccups it ceased to work. Finally, after a gentle push from Millicent he fell backwards into her arms. If someone were to hold a knife against his throat in that moment, he wouldn’t have done so much as bat an eyelash.  _

_ The mere thought of blinking made him dizzy with exhaustion.  _

_ “Shhhhh, It’s alright. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Millie stroked his hair, not caring at all that he’d vomited over it before. Someone came into the bathroom and handed Millie a glass of water with a straw in it. The weird plastic thing was gently nudged between his lips seconds after. “You can rinse your mouth with this Draco, you don’t have to drink it. Just make sure you get rid of that awful taste.”  _

_ He found he couldn’t nod to indicate he’d heard her, so he just did what she asked. As he did, Pansy entered the room and silently started cleaning his hair. It had gotten too long over the past months, but he didn’t want it cut. His grown-out hair curled a bit, making him look a bit like his mother on careless Sunday mornings. It was the only thing about his physique that he didn’t hate.  _

_ “Do you want to talk about it?” Pansy charmed his hair dry, held one of his hands and squeezed. He wasn’t sure he liked that gesture. Having two of his best friends take care of him like this felt shitty enough as it was, he didn’t need them to mother over him as well.  _

_ “Not much to talk about.” His voice was raspy, but at least it wasn’t a whisper. “I can’t even remember what the nightmare was about. Only that it had something to do with Fenrir and mother.” _

_ Instead of a compassionate smile Pansy kept her face neutral, for which Draco was grateful. “Alright then. Do you want to get back to bed?”  _

_ “Or do you want me to teach you muggle snakes and ladders?” Millie scooted away from behind him and shot him a bright smile. Draco offered her a slightly less depressed look in return. If he hadn’t already done so for years, he would have decided right there and then that he loved Millicent. She could read people better than they could read themselves.  _

_ “Millie’s option.” Sleeping sounded like something he wouldn’t be able to do for the next few hours. He held out his hand and Pansy pulled him to his feet. She caught him when dizziness almost let him fall down again. “One nightmare is more than enough for one night.” _

“I think it’s time to put our robes on now.” Pansy said as she watched the sky outside grow bright orange. It really was a beautiful day, which didn’t fit Draco’s mood at all. Though his spirits had lifted a bit since that morning. No one had bothered them except for the unexpectedly kind lunch lady, and soon after that he’d lost himself in the adventures of Alice in Wonderland. Muggle or not, Lewis Carroll knew how to bloody write. 

“I suppose it is.” He marked his page and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t panicking at the thought of putting on robes again. It would be the first time wearing them since the battle. He’d nearly had a panic attack just looking at them in the hands of that prison guard, though granted those had been his battle robes. He hoped he wouldn’t get an actual panic attack now. That would make for an even more rubbish start of the year. “I don’t suppose I can pull up my hood so no one will recognize me, right? I’d rather not get egged in person.”

“I’m afraid that might send the wrong signal.” Pansy smiled sympathetically at him, which Draco still hated. She was only ever truly sympathetic when he was actually fucked. Like that time he’d been asked to kill Dumbledore. “But I can cast excellent  _ Notice Me Not _ charms, and if you allow me to turn your hair chestnut, I don’t think anyone will spot you. Plus,” Pansy grinned, and pulled two ties from her trunk. “I designed these before you joined us. They’re Hogwarts ties. Thought it might do something for house unity and all that.”

She tossed one at him, and Draco took a curious look at it. The thing was purple, and the Hogwarts Crest had replaced the house symbol. It looked amazing and felt very soft, but he couldn’t help but feel like wearing it would betray his own house. Not to mention, wearing a unique purple tie would only draw more attention to them. He didn’t have to voice his worries though. Pansy was a smart woman.

“I embedded the fabric with more  _ notice me not _ charm work. It wears off after a few hours though, for something more permanent I need a potion to wash it with or something. But it works for tonight. And the harsh lines we have between the houses now need to get more blurred anyway. One of the main reasons why this whole war business started was because Slytherins are often alienated as fuck.”

“Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who changed.” Draco offered her a weak smile, and Pansy shoved him before she stuck out her tongue. Then it was time to pull his robes out of his trunk. Again he stubbornly refused to acknowledge the anxiety building up inside his chest. It wasn’t like being anxious would stop him from putting on those robes, nor would his all-numbing fear to go back to Hogwarts stop him from walking into the Great Hall. He had no choice in the matter, and that was probably for the best. Merlin knew what  terrible decisions he made when he was given the opportunity. 

Five minutes later, the train rolled into the station, Draco had turned into a brunette, and the two of them wore matching purple ties. Still, they stayed safely in their compartment until most of the noise in the hallway had died down. They were Slytherins after all. Not taking risks was their second nature. 

“...Coast is clear, Harry. They’ve all gone.” Draco froze in the door opening as he heard the familiar voice of Hermione Granger. “Though I still think you shouldn’t be hiding from your fellow students. You can’t avoid everyone forever, so you might as well use this opportunity to tell people off for staring at you.”

“‘Moine, give a man some rest!” Ronald Weasley argued as he stepped out of his compartment, soon followed by an all too familiar mob of messy black hair dark. Draco hadn’t seen Potter since his trials, though he barely remembered his testimony. He barely remembered anything from his trial. It wasn’t a very fun topic to think about. “He just wants to go to the Great Hall in peace, and frankly so do I. It’s the first time seeing the castle again since the battle. Harry doesn’t-”

“Come on Draco.” Pansy took a hold of his hand and started pulling him away. “We’ll use the other door, get a different carriage. It’ll be fine.”

“Sure.” Draco said weakly, and he let himself get pulled away. He didn’t look away from Potter though. Not until he really had to. The Gryffindor hero looked smaller than Draco remembered him. Like he was too exhausted to stand upright. It wasn’t very surprising. Draco knew from the few things he’d heard that Potter had attended each and every ministry trial from day one until now. Only an Azkaban stay would suck the life out of someone more efficiently. 

It made him sad, seeing Potter like that. Draco felt shit because he was scarred by bad choices, death eaters, general hostility and his stay in Azkaban. That made sense. But Potter had won the war, so why hadn’t he been celebrating? Why had he attended all those trials? Why had no one grabbed those cute cheeks of his and told him right to his face that  _ he had defeated Voldemort. He deserved to be happy more than anyone else. He should be selfish and have fun _ . 

It was an odd feeling, caring for Potter’s well being, because Draco had never done that before. Last time they’d met on their way to Hogwarts, Potter had spied on him and Draco had broken his nose before leaving him to go travel to London. Going from there to being concerned about his well being was quite the change. 

“Oh Merlin. You take one look at Potter and you’re already obsessing?” Pansy let out a deep breath and dropped her face in one hand, while the other was still firmly wrapped around Draco’s fingers. “This is going to be a regular thing now, isn’t it?”

“I just wondered why he looked so sad, that’s all.” Draco shrugged. He was trying very hard not to think about the fact that he thought Potter’s cheeks were  _ cute _ . Being gay was Pansy’s thing after all. His was being a failed death eater. 

“Yeah.” Pansy said, clearly not believing him. “I’m sure that’s all, Draco.”

* * *

_ Dear Draco, _

 

_ My mind healer was of the opinion that I should tell you I smiled for the first time since your father’s mark burned again when I heard you were safe and far away from that awful prison. I hope the Bulstrode family offers you a warm welcome. That is not what they are known for, but Millicent’s father has not cared for such things as family reputation in many years. Or at least that is what I have been told. If the warmth of Pansy’s words reflects the type of people they are, then I do not doubt you will be alright.  _

_ I will be a bit more elaborate in this letter than usual, because I do not want you to come and visit. However much I wish to see you, I know for now it is more important to keep a low profile, and above all to stay safe. That will be tricky in such a crowded magical environment like St. Mungo’s. I do not want you to take that risk. _

_ I will start with Theo. I am sure you are quite desperate to get some news on him. You two are such close friends. He has a room on the youth ward opposite my solitary room. I’m sure you’ve heard the basics from Pansy, but in all the hectics she and Millicent have only been able to visit once. He is not doing very well. He does not sleep, but he does not really wake up either. Mostly he just mutters and sways to and fro a bit. When he had recovered enough from his physical injuries to be transported to the mental ward, he could not walk. The mind healer said that such a thing is common to result from bad cases of PTSD. She said the muggles call such a thing ‘shell shock’.  _

_ It’s been a few weeks now and his ability to walk has returned, though he does not frequently make use of it. Sometimes, on good days, I go to his room and try to hold conversations with him. It does not happen a lot, because my illness often stops me from leaving my bed. When we do talk, it is mostly about you. About his stays in your childhood bedroom or the first time you showed him the library. Often he will cry during our talks, but he says he enjoys them anyway. I presume it reminds him of times when things were normal and sane. _

_ Those old times will never return of course, but sanity might.  _

_ For me sanity has not yet returned, I will be honest to you about that. My perception of my hospital stay is that I have been here for two weeks at most, but I know that is not true. I was checked in shortly after the end of my trial, which I am sure you know. I am happy you did not get to see me collapse, I do not wish for you to witness such a scene. Your eyes have seen enough.  _

_ I am myself not sure what happened in that moment either, and I do not plan to find out until I am feeling more stable. What I do know is that it has to have been quite ugly, because Mr. Potter came to visit me after I was taken to St. Mungo’s. My memory of that moment is hazy, I only remember him asking if I was alright. I said yes because he did not look like he deserved the painful truth. Being in court or at a funeral nearly every day means he hears enough of that already, I believe.  _

_ I am still not alright now. I am not as resilient as you are. As my mind healer puts it I have been under too much pressure and the weight has permanently bent me out of shape. All the talks she wants to have with me almost every day are supposed to bend me back, and as I do not know a different way I have listened to her so far. It is a challenge though. I often feel like she is uprooting everything I have built upon and everything I was raised with because all of it is in some way prejudiced against muggles, muggleborns or halfbloods.  _

_ It is a constant conflict, knowing that the old ways can lead to such terror but also knowing that without the structure I get from that old system there would be no me left. Or at least not enough to built upon right now. I can imagine that you are having the same conflicting feelings right now, which is why I am telling you about it. _

_ I have no solution for it, though. I wish I did because I have not been the mother you deserve for so long and I want to help you. My head is not clear enough to be of assistance right now. It has taken me three days to write this letter, and it still feels inadequate and unsuitable for its task. I can do no more in this moment. I hope your recovery is going well. Please make sure you are safe. I have heard you will have to finish your exams at Hogwarts as a part of your parole agreement, so for that I have included the wand from my own Hogwarts days for you in the envelope. It has always been one of the more welcoming wands I’ve owned. My magic almost feels foreign to me now, so I would not use it myself right now anyway, you are not to worry about that. I wish you the best of luck in the upcoming school year. _

 

_ With love, Narcissa _

* * *

 

“Welcome back, all of you, to a new school year at Hogwarts. I am very glad to see you’ve all arrived safe and sound.” Draco kept his shoulders hunched and his eyes cast down as McGonagall made her speech. He’d been so caught up in what other people would do and say when he went back to Hogwarts, that he’d barely thought about what he himself found of his return. 

To put it lightly he wasn’t happy about it. Not because he didn’t want to finish his education, but because he didn’t deserve it. Walking through the halls of the castle had reminded him of his past self. The arrogant boy who’d strutted through the place as if he owned it, feeling better than everyone else. He had looked down on each and every student who hadn’t been in his own house or in a higher year. He’d sneered, called people  _ mudblood _ and most of all, had tried his very best to make a certain group of Gryffindors feel miserable. The very same group who’d ended up winning the war and saving his life. The latter even multiple times.

Every one of those realisations he had as he walked into the castle felt new, because he had not allowed himself to think about all of it before. Doubt about his beliefs had crept in years ago, starting with the death of Cedric and the rebirth of Voldemort at the end of his fourth year. Seeing the lifeless body of a well-respected, pure-blooded fellow student come out of that maze had made a huge impact on him. But it wasn’t exactly the right time to openly question his upbringing just as his father was called in to support the Dark Lord again. 

So instead of turning away while he still could, as he should have done, he dug himself in deeper. Abused his position as prefect, joined Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad and did everything to undermine the efforts of Dumbledore’s army. Anything not to think, but just do. And the year after that things suddenly became a whole lot more real, his mother made an unbreakable vow and there was no turning back. No one to help him and no place to hide. Not even his own mind was safe now that his house had been taken over by one of the most powerful legilimens in the world. So he’d stopped thinking about it entirely, and hid his slip-ups under piles of war-terror and anxiety. It gave his mind a foul taste for intruders and knocked the breath right out of his conscience. 

A coward’s choice. Every single decision he had made since the return of Voldemort had been a coward’s choice. Not that he knew how he could have kept his mother safe without those choices, but he knew there could have been a way. He chose not to find it though, and now he had to face the consequences; Realise that he was a bad person. A selfish, bad person, who felt better than everyone else and who was only ever looking for a way to save his own skin. 

A cowardice bully. 

It sounded strange to say in his head, that he was a bully. He was only realising it now. Sure, people had called him that before, but he’d always brushed it off.  _ You just don’t understand that I’m better than you. Learn proper Magical culture and etiquettes, then we’ll talk. Do you have any idea what the Malfoy name stands for?  _

He had foolishly, he saw now, copied his father’s rules, behaviour and habits for the best part of his childhood. He had seen the glint of approval on his father’s face the first time he had called a muggleborn a mudblood. He had eavesdropped on many of his father’s meetings so he could copy his words and body language. He had idolised his father until God and Dad were capitalized in the same way. 

It had taken three long years filled with doubt that made his fingers shake before he’d managed to open his eyes and see his own beliefs for what they were; harmful, racist and filled with hate. Poisonous to anyone around him who didn’t fit into a carefully defined box. He didn’t want to be poisonous anymore. 

Now that he could see all of that though, he couldn’t help but feel like Hogwarts was the last place on earth he ought to be. And he felt like it was important to realise that, even if it wasn’t his own choice to come back. He never mindlessly wanted to follow orders again. Even if it hurt to think about it all.  

“...In this year, and many more to come. The first is that safety is now a given, making education again the highest priority during your stay here. The second is that we have a dozen of students this year who will be taking their  _ eighth year _ here at Hogwarts. Because of the infrastructure of the castle, these students will share a dorm and common room not with house-, but with classmates. The new eighth year residency is located on the second floor. The third...”

Draco stopped listening as the icy clawing hands of panic grabbed his insides again. Though some Slytherins didn’t really like him, he knew for sure he’d be safe in the dungeons. But possibly sharing a dorm with Potter and his friends? He was never going to relax enough to catch any sleep. It would be just like at the manor again, when Voldemort had just moved in. The insomnia would drive him up the walls. The other students would bully him and without being able to retaliate or defend himself in any real way he’d snap and within a month he’d be seeing the insides of his Azkaban cell again. 

“Breathe Draco. Breathe. Inhale, hold, and exhale.” Pansy was rubbing his back, trying to get him to focus on the present instead of his doom scenarios. His awfully realistic doom scenarios. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll sort this out. I’ll sneak into you bed to guard it if I have to. You’re going to be safe. Now just breathe. In, hold, and out.” 

Draco missed the rest of McGonagall’s speech as he tried to listen to Pansy’s voice. It was difficult, and by the time he’d managed it the sorting of the first years was almost done. That sadly didn’t stop him from noticing that most new Slytherins looked like they’d just received a death sentence. The rational part of him knew that wasn’t his fault alone, there had been animosity between the other houses for centuries, but the emotional part of him drowned that out. And now he just felt even more scared than before. 

* * *

_ “I regret it, you know. Going along with what everyone else was saying.” They were sitting in the tiny back garden in the shadow, looking for some cold air that didn’t exist. The London area had been suffocating in the heat for days now. “And I know you don’t think about it like that, but when I see my parents and the way I acted in school, well… I just can’t get myself to blame you, Draco. Not that you weren’t a little shit of course. But I think anyone in your position would have turned into a little shit.” _

_ “Thanks, Mills.” Draco replied sarcastically. He wanted to roll his eyes but then thought the better of it and spend his energy on licking his ice cream. His stomach was too overheated to protest the nutrition right now. “That makes me feel heaps better. I wasn’t my fault, it were my parents and teachers and the rest of society. Everyone is to blame for my behaviour but me.” _

_ “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Millie chucked the stick of her ice cream at him, which he dodged. “I just meant to say that yes, you did shit things and you’re going to face the consequences for that, but you’re not a bad person. You have morals, you doubted the people around you and now you’re capable of admitting that your upbringing was prejudiced as fuck. Those are some big steps, Draco. I never thought you’d make them this fast.” _

_ “You thought I was going to keep gushing bullshit about blood supremacy and the Dark Lord after I’ve seen first hand that those beliefs only brings death, torture and misery?” He tossed the rest of his ice on the table and got up to leave. “Bloody thanks Mills. Always nice to know my friends think I’m an idiot with no empathy or brain.” _

_ “Draco. Sit. Down.” Pansy glared at him and didn’t even have to grab his wrist to make him cooperate. She was quite scary when she got real with him. Draco swallowed thickly before lowering himself on the chair again. He hated being told off. “First of all, you are not allowed to talk to my girlfriend like that,  _ ever _. Second, she has a point. For the both of us it  _ is _ surprising that you’ve admitted to your mistakes so quickly. We didn’t know how long and deeply you’ve doubted your beliefs, because you never told or showed us. The only reason why we’re both surprised is because you’re an excellent liar. Always have been.” _

_ Millicent bit her bottom lip and shared a look with Pansy that was more suited for private settings. Draco got up to leave again but before he could Millie glared at him too. “Don’t leave. You’re eighteen, Draco. Far too old to still be throwing bloody tantrums.”  _

_ When hearing those words Draco clenched his jaw so hard he feared his teeth might break.  _ Tantrum.  _ Every time he had disagreed with his father about anything, the man had called his behaviour a tantrum. No matter if he was being reasonable or not, even though he usually was.  _ Childish tantrums. You’re not going to be an unworthy heir now, are you, Draco?

_ But that was never a real question or option.  _

_ “I don’t throw tantrums.” If he hadn’t been gripping his arm rests his hands would be shaking from the effort it took to keep his voice calm. “It is just upsetting to hear that even my best friends have not been able to look past my mask. It is very difficult to come to terms with the fact that no one really knows me, especially now that I barely know myself. And it hurts even more because I know I did that to myself. I caused things to be this way.” He rose from his seat again. No one was accusing him of throwing a tantrum now. Despite the tears on his face and his now freely shaking hands, his voice was clear. “I’m sorry that I snapped at you for that, Millicent. I shouldn’t have.”  _

_ Then he turned around and left in silence. He needed to not be around his friends anymore. The distance between them hurt too much.  _

* * *

_ Later that afternoon there was a knock on his door, but he didn’t permit them entrance. His voice was still too cracked from everything. He had tried to stop himself from thinking too much about his father, his faulty beliefs and all the awful shit he’d pulled. As everyone kept telling him when things became too much, he had tried to go to his ‘happy place’. The problem with that tactic was however, that all of his happy memories were at Hogwarts. The people there had been hurt because he was a coward, making the place tainted by war. _

_ This time an image of Potter and his two friends had pushed things from bad to worse. The mere thought of the specky git used to fill him with a feeling of injustice, because why did that idiot get to have so many things Draco clearly deserved? Attention, fame, respect, popularity, adoring fans.  _

_ But now he knew that he’d had some of those things for years without realising it, and that he didn’t deserve them at all. Vincent and many younger years had adored him from day one. The former had basically died for him because of that, without Draco even noticing. He had always been so greedy, always wanting what he could not have without ever looking at what he’d already gotten. Now it was too late. He’d watched one of his best friends die, had almost lost a second and both his money and his good family name were gone. He might still have Pansy, Theo, millie and his parents, but things were different now. Forever changed and put into a darker light, especially his father.  _

_ He didn’t even know if he loved the man now. He hated him, he knew that much, but love and hate weren’t opposites. He’d gone half his life thinking he hated Potter but yet he’d always known if the specky git had offered him a hand or friendship he’d take it in a heartbeat. Just like he knew he’d still glow if his father gave him a rare, hard earned compliment. Even if it concerned the Dark Lord. Even if death or torture was involved. He wasn’t sure if he could ever stop craving those words of approval, awful context or not. He feared that made him a bad person. He feared he was a bad person regardless. _

_ Draco wasn’t sure where his thoughts had wandered off to next, he just knew it wasn’t his happy place at all. His panic attack had been a quiet one though, unnoticed by his friends. That was why Pansy was only knocking now, two hours later as his thoughts had gone back to Potter again. His brain was too exhausted for another panic attack, so he’d just been wondering about where the Gryffindor was. If he was happy. If being on the complete opposite end of the war meant The Saviour was having laughter attacks now.  _

_ Probably not.  _

_ “I hate not knowing you.” Pansy climbed into bed with him and locked her arms around his chest. His already damp shirt quickly got wetter, but Pansy’s voice was rock solid and furious. “I hate it that you had to hide yourself. I hate it that you couldn’t be free in your own mind for two whole years. I hate it that you were sent to Azkaban. I hate how much the war took from us. I hate not having Vincent here. I hate how much Theo hates himself. I hate Blaise for cutting us all off. I hate society for never giving us a fair chance.” Pansy took a deep breath, letting go of him a little so she could look him in the eye. “But I love you. And I won’t lose hope because I love you. And neither will you. Alright?” _

_ He nodded, glad that there was no need to say anything. At the rate they were going at, London’s water shortage would be solved in no-time.  _

_ “I’m going to get to know you again.” Pansy whispered as dusk began to set in, many hours later. “And then I’ll tell you who you are because we both know you’ll get it horribly wrong if you have to find out by yourself. You can’t even find the snitch when it’s flying right next to your ear.” _

_ “That was  _ one  _ time! Plus, Potter was distracting me.” Draco sulked. Pansy chuckled. Draco sulked some more. “You’re awful.” _

_ “-Ly attractive and amazing. Oh I know, Draco. Very nice of you to say, though.” Pansy smirked and shoved him between the ribs. Draco shoved her right back. Then they lay in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts and fears. It wasn’t going to be easy, the year ahead. The years after that didn’t look much better either. But as long as no one paid them any heed they’d survive.  _

_ Draco just hoped people would allow them to fade into the background. _

* * *

 

Either the notice me not charms were wearing off or Potter was just  _ really _ determined to stare at him. However strange it sounded, he thought it was the latter. Potter was the only one staring at him after all. The rest of the student body was too busy munching on their deserts. Draco’s stomach turned itself into a knot at the mere thought of eating, so in all honesty Potter was a welcome distraction. Even if it meant he had to firmly ban the word  _ cute  _ out of his head.

“If he’s going to stalk you again I’ll punch him in the face.” Pansy said, following his line of sight to Potter’s messy mob of hair. “Honestly, that guy needs a new hobby, this is getting weird.”

“ _ That guy _ did happen to have saved my life, Pansy, on top of killing You Know Who.” Draco directed his attention back to his cake. The mere thought of eating it made his stomach revolt, but pushing it around a bit might get Pansy off his back. “If staring at me makes him happy, then he can do so all he likes. Though I really can’t imagine that it does.”

“Well, as long as he makes sure he doesn’t go any further than staring this time.” Pansy said darkly. “That kid has too much power, and not enough discipline.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Draco asked, a disgustingly vulnerable quiver in his voice. It was not fun to keep discovering how much everything had changed, and how much he couldn’t handle that. Everything seemed to be a trigger now. Even mentioning an almost welcomed mistake. It was a selfish thought, but sometimes Draco wished Potter’s aim had been just a little bit better that night. 

“Fine.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Just as long as you tell me when it becomes a regular thing again.”

“Sure.” Draco replied, feeling only a tiny bit bad about the lie. 

The rest of the meal was spent in relatively peaceful silence. It felt nothing like any of the other start of year feasts he’d been to, but at least it wasn’t worse than seventh year. No death eater was randomly picking out students because their parents turned out to have the wrong lineage. He’d kill himself before having to listen to the quiet scared sobs of those muggleborns again. 

After dinner McGonagall led the eighth years to their new dorms. They turned out to be the revamped version of the hallway that had been off bounds in their first year. Potter seemed far from happy about that, and Draco tried focussing on that instead of the second speech of their headmistress. Luckily, the Gryffindor could still capture Draco’s attention the way he always had, though for different reasons now. Where Potter had once been all about smiles and happy reunions, now his shoulders were hunched and his eyes seemed darker. As if the weight of the world had never fully lifted off his back. Not strange, given how he had attended almost every single trial and funeral in the country for the past few months. He found it odd that Weasley and Granger had allowed Potter to do that. Surely they must have known such a summer wouldn’t make anyone happy? 

“We’re dorming with the Gryffindors.” Pansy whispered in his ear after giving him a light shove. Draco startled, and reluctantly tore his gaze away from Potter. “At least that means we know who we’re dealing with.”

“Way to find a silver lining.” Draco rolled his eyes. His sarcasm wasn’t enough to keep the panic away, but he hadn’t really expected that in the first place. He tugged at his tie, slowly pulling it off his neck. There was no point in keeping the charm work in place now. Better to let the others find out who they were rooming with now than the next morning. Get things over with. 

“Ey, at least I try you mopey arse.” Pansy elbowed him again. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if the woman would actually succeed at giving him a bruised rib at this rate. “If I had a pessimistic view of the world I would have flung myself off the astronomy tower years ago.”

“Parkinson!” Granger whipped her head around, glaring daggers at Pansy. “Suicide is not something to joke about!”

“Oh I am well aware of that,  _ Granger _ . I’ve had plenty of experience with the subject, and I was dead serious when I said that.” Pansy crossed her arms and stared at Granger defiantly. “Believe it or not, but I am the last fucking person after Draco here who would take suicide lightly.”

“Leave me out of it, will you?” Draco hissed. He hated all the eyes turning to him. After everything that had happened he wanted to keep a low profile and Pansy should bloody well know that. Her causing a scene wouldn’t help him at all. 

“Yes please do.” Terry Boot muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Draco to hear. “As if anyone would care if  _ Malfoy _ tossed himself over the edge.” 

“No need to state the obvious, Boot.” Draco replied, sounding almost bored in the hope of throwing the Ravenclaw off his rhythm. “I sure haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

“I think it is now time for all of you to find your beds.” McGonagall put her hands together, and Draco sighed in relief as Boot turned to her and dropped the subject. “Schedules will be handed out tomorrow. And do remember, as eight years you serve as an example for the rest of the school. Please try to think of that before you act.” 

Draco couldn’t be sure, didn’t  _ want _ to be sure, but he thought McGonagall looked briefly at him and Pansy. The latter huffed as soon as the headmistress had gone. “Bitch.”

“She has no reason to believe we changed.” Draco muttered as the other students went to find their dorms. “Though I will admit, she lacks that insight because she never talked with us once. Only to, or about.”

“Adults are all shite.” Pansy declared, before she pulled him in for a hug. “Try not to get killed. I’ll see if I can find a moment to visit tonight, but I don’t want to be caught sneaking on day one.”

“My my, you really have gone rusty if you think you can get  _ caught _ now.” Draco teased.

“Sneaking around in a dorm filled with students suffering from PTSD, insomnia or both? Yes, I do thing I can get caught doing that.” Pansy tightened her grip on him. “But hey, at least you don’t have to share a dorm with  _ Granger _ .”

Draco let out a humourless chuckle. “I have a Weasley though. He must count for something.”

“Count for small change, yes.” Pansy rolled her eyes, but Draco found he couldn’t enjoy the play on Weasley’s lack of money. He was broke himself too now, and though in his case it was definitely his own fault, that didn’t mean he liked the idea of people joking about it. For Weasley, who had always been poor, that feeling had to be much worse. 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “What’s your big brain thinking about this time?”

“About how we should probably stop making fun of Weasley. And everyone else, to be honest. I mean I’m broke too, so only calling Weasley poor would make you a hypocrite.” He shrugged, trying not to let on how much it hurt to say that. Of course the ministry had been right to confiscate the Malfoy funds to pay for war reparations, but still. Fun was something else. “That, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves than I have to. I mean, I got egged on our way here and all I did was sit in a bloody train compartment.”

“Yeah yeah alright fine. I’ll stop.” Pansy rolled her eyes again, but she meant her words even though she didn’t like them. He pulled her into another hug as a thank you, and then sent her on her way to the girl’s dorms. 

When she was gone he was the only one left in the common room. The space felt rather lonely and soulless. Everything in the room was clearly all new, which gave their common room a strange, unpleasant smell. The eight different house colours that made up the room’s colour pallette was nothing short of hideous, and the fact that there was only one small silver stool and some green pillows on a Hufflepuff black couch didn’t make him feel any more at home. 

As he studied the clashing colours he couldn’t help but hear his parents’ complaining voices. His mother would find it ridiculous that colours had a role in house politics, before suggesting to paint all the walls green. His father would just sniff and say that the silver, green and blue bits would do, and everything else had to go. 

Everything he didn’t relate to had to go. Everything that didn’t match. Didn’t fit. 

Suddenly Draco felt quite awful for disliking the space, and he made a promise to himself to get used to it. They were only colours anyway.

He stayed behind to contemplate things until even the slowest Gryffindor had to be safely tucked away under the covers. Then he sneaked into the boys dorm’s bathroom to throw some cold water in his face and brush his teeth. This time he could say he hated the space without fear of being prejudiced. Only the shower stall area didn’t have mirrors, the rest of the walls were covered with the things. Unless he walked around with his eyes closed there was no escaping his reflection and he doubted he was the only one who didn’t need a close-up of his own face every day.

The bags under his eyes were almost as black as his pupils, and his hair looked dry and messy from Pansy’s charm work. He would no doubt be able to see a lot more unpleasantness while changing into his pyjamas, so he saved that part of his routine for when he lay in bed and just brushed his hair a bit. When he was done he found the last empty bed right next to the creaking bathroom door and climbed in. Not before placing strong locking charms on his stuff and curtains though. Some of the Gryffindors might have saved his life, but that didn’t mean he trusted them. He barely trusted anyone these days.

Draco had no nightmares that night. Due to the strange environment and his new dormmates he’d slept so lightly, he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d slept at all. He was still as tired as the day before at least, when he heard the first Gryffindor stumble out of bed to take a piss. As he peeked through his curtains he saw it was Neville going into the bathroom. The sight spiked his anxiety, because he realized that  _ saying _ he was going to apologize, wasn’t the same as actually doing it. Which meant he had to find a moment alone with each of his roommates in order to do that. And judging by the early hour and many snores, Neville and him were now pretty much alone. 

Maybe this still wasn’t the right time though. No one wanted to get jumped by an apology from a former bully at half past five. Then again most people he wanted to apologize to wouldn’t appreciate it no matter what time it was, so he might as well try. At the very least Neville would probably be too sleepy to hex him now. 

After making up his mind, he took a deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed just as Neville re-emerged. As soon as he tried to stand his vision blurred and his head started spinning, as it always did no matter how slowly he got to his feet in the morning. Quickly he grabbed the side of the bed and steadied himself.

“Are you… Are you alright, Malfoy?” To his utter bafflement Neville sounded genuinely concerned, and the Gryffindor surprised him even more when his vision returned and he saw the man was fully dressed. He looked ready for some long hours in the greenhouses, which was probably where he was going. 

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Now it was Neville’s turn to look surprised, but Draco wanted to get this over with and paid his expression no heed. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. Or say something, really.”  _ Wow, way to go Draco. You definitely don’t sound like a stuttering five year old with no more than seven words in his vocabulary _ . “I want to apologize to you. To you and pretty much everyone else, but since you’re the only one awake…” He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep looking at Neville as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I was terrible to you and so,  _ so _ many other people. And I know that an apology isn’t going to fix six years of being awful and another year of being downright cruel, but I just want you to know that I do deeply regret what I did.”

Draco had never known an apology could be long, short, painful, a relief and inadequate at the same time, but apparently it could be. As soon as the last word was spoken he cast his eyes down to the floor. Looking at Neville was… Not something he could do for a long time. It reminded him of the year before, when his round face seemed to be constantly covered in bruises and yet he had never stopped fighting. That was a kind of bravery so far from what Draco would ever have, it was scary to watch. 

“Uhh, thanks.” Neville was probably blushing but Draco still refused to look. “And just for the record, you’re not cruel. My six year old niece can hurt me more by tickling me than your  _ crucio _ curse could ever do. I mean honestly? You were just a very crap death eater.”

Now  _ that _ made Draco look up, just in time to see Neville flash him a smile before he disappeared through the door. “What the fuck?” He stammered as he climbed back in bed. He had  _ not _ seen that coming. 


	4. Chapter 4

All the time, all the time

I think of you all the time

-The Anchor, Bastille

“Come on Draco, rise and shine!” Pansy threw his curtains open. Her voice sounded possibly even happier than Millicent’s had the day before. Though it felt like three weeks before, with everything that had happened since.

“Fuck off you bint.” He pulled his pillow over his head and groaned. He’d been awake for two hours now, and since all of his dormmates were gone now he’d finally started to fall asleep. “‘S too early.”

“If you fancy any breakfast it’s not.” Pansy nudged him again, and grudgingly Draco lifted his head to look at her. She looked immaculate, as usual. It was unfair how her hair always listened to her, while Draco’s had to be manhandled before it even resembled a proper style. It was one of the reasons why he’d envied Potter. The kid had always walked around with a bedhead, while Draco rose half an hour early to slick his own locks back. It there was so much as one tuft of hair out of place, his father would basically send him a howler about it.

“Well I don’t fancy breakfast. Getting judgemental stares from twelve year olds isn’t my preferred setting for meals.” Draco dramatically fell back onto his pillows. “Go without me.”

“Alright so I have three reasons why I’m not going to do that.” Pansy announced as she climbed on his bed and sat down on his knees. “One, if you ditch me those twelve year olds will be staring at me, but mostly at the younger Slytherins who already feel shit enough as it is. Staying away would therefore be a dickish thing to do. Two, I love you, and refuse to let you starve, you skinny bitch.” Draco glared at Pansy for that, as a sign of affection. “Three, I joined you in eighth year to make sure you wouldn’t die, and in return you promised to try your best at it. Refusing to get out of bed on day one is not trying your best, you bint.” Pansy leaned forward and flicked his forehead. Then she finally hopped off his knees. “Now get out of bed before I make you.”

With a deep sigh, Draco threw his legs over the edge of the bed for the second time that morning. “You’re the worst.”

“And I’m also the best, because I’m all you’ve got.” Pansy crossed her arms and smirked at him. Draco threw an unknown stray sock (how the hell had that ended up next to his bed?) at her head and glanced at the bathroom. Pansy wouldn’t allow him his full morning routine this late, and to be honest he didn’t have the energy for it either.

“Can you do my hair for me?”

“Sure.” Pansy summoned his brush and got to work, quickly producing a bloody ponytail.

He almost regretted growing his hair out because of it. “I’m not five years old, Pans.”

“But you act like it.” Pansy singsonged, and she made no move to change his hair even after a glared at her. “Besides, I straightened it for you. And if you redo it the charm will wear off and you’ll look like Luna Lovegood’s paler male twin. Is that what you want?”

“No.” He grumbled reluctantly.

“That’s what I thought. Now, are you finally coming with me, darling?” He supposed somewhere in a parallel universe, ‘darling’ was a term of endearment. Pansy was doing an excellent job making it sound like an insult, though.

“Of course babe.” He stuck out his tongue at her and linked their arms together. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

* * *

 Breakfast was a quiet affair. Or at least it was until the post of that day arrived. Pansy’s _Prophet_ was followed by several letters which Draco incinerated before they could start yelling at him. The amount of owls around his breakfast earned him a lot of puzzled or satisfied looks, which in turn totally spoiled his already small appetite.

“Don’t!” Pansy smacked his wand away just before he could incinerate the next unknown letter. And for good a reason. Draco pushed his magic slowly away from his body, reaching out for the envelope. It gave him a headache, but soon enough he could feel some serious cursed artefact vibes coming from the thing. “We have to take that to professor McGonagall before it kills someone.”

“Like hell we are. I didn’t spend two years of my life surrounded by dark artefacts and magic only to be killed by it now.” He prodded the letter a bit more with his magic. There seemed to be an enlargement charm on the thing, making space for a very ancient heirloom inside. Lucky for him, time had made the curse rusty instead of powerful. It only took two precisely calculated spells before the things, and with it the letter, crumbled to dust. “Whoever wants me dead is going to have to do a better bloody job than that.”

“I can see that.” He and Pansy whipped their head around to find an unfamiliar professor standing behind them. She was short, a bit chubby and judging by her accent she had russian roots. Not your average person, but Draco still got the sense he knew her magic. Maybe he’d met her during his trial. “Impressive spellwork, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you can show the same qualities in my lessons.”

Before either one of them could ask what lesson she taught, the woman had walked on.

“New defence teacher, I think?” Pansy filled in the gap that Draco’s overwhelmed mind had left empty. Extending one’s magic surrounded by dozens of other magical beings wasn’t the world’s greatest idea. “She looks competent enough. And I like her accent. Oh, and your plate is on fire.”

“My what is on-, fuck!” Draco’s plate was indeed on fire. Black and purple flames had turned his toast and eggs into a black crisp, and now they were beginning to melt his golden plate. The mere heat of the flames was enough to throw him right back into visions of burning rooms and old friends falling to their death. As fast as he could he jumped away from the table and pressed his back against the cool wall behind him. A bunch of Ravenclaws who were watching burst into giggles when they saw his face. It must look quite hilarious to them, the school bully getting a taste of his own medicine.

“ _Aguamenti._ ” A large flood of water burst from the tip of a wand and extinguished the flames. Then the jet moved away to soak the laughing Ravenclaws. “Oops. Forgot to cancel the spell. I’m so very sorry.”

Draco couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. The scene in front of him was just too bizarre. Because the wand belonged to Harry Potter, and his voice had been more sarcastic than Pansy’s on a good day. Topped off with the shocked faces of the ravens, laughing was really the only thing he could do.

The same went up for Potter, it seemed. He didn’t have the same level of fearful energy being released through laughing as Draco had, but he chuckled all the same and even exchanged a smile with him before realising that Draco was, well...Draco.

“Thanks, Potter.” The Gryffindor looked like he had touched a ghost when he heard that, and Draco felt a sharp jolt of guilt in his gut. It wasn’t exactly a good thing everyone was so surprised when he was nice to them for once. “I wanted to-”

“Yes thanks, Potter.” Pansy interrupted him and glared at the Gryffindor. Draco only noticed now that she’d gotten soaked in the process of extinguishing the fire. She didn’t look very happy about that. “Honestly, you could fend off dementors in third year already but a little delicacy in your spellwork five years later is too much to ask?”

“Oh don’t be such a baby, Pans.” Draco rolled her eyes at her dramatic antics. “You’re hardly a sweetheart, therefore a little water won’t make you melt.” That earned him a surprising snort from Potter, and an unsurprising glare from Pansy. “Besides, I think the water deactivated the last of the howlers, so really you should be thanking Potter for not turning us all deaf.”

“Howlers? Why would you-,” Potter stopped talking when he realised who he was talking to. “Oh. Of course, never mind.”

“Yes. Of course indeed Potter. I’ve been acting like a class A prick for seven years, and it seems my actions are finally catching up with me. I wanted to,” he briefly interrupted his speech to incinerate a howler that had produced a suspicious puff of smoke. “Apologise to you for that. And of course-”

“Apology accepted.” Potter interrupted before he could finish. The Gryffindor looked incredibly awkward. They were being stared at by basically the whole student body plus most teachers. Potter fidgeted nervously and Draco’s stomach suddenly revolted as he saw all those eyes on him. He hadn’t noticed them before. “Ehh, see you in muggle studies Malfoy. Bye.”

And as quick as his legs could carry him without running, Potter turned around and left. Draco grabbed his bag, charmed Pansy dry and beckoned her to leave the Great Hall with him. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I have no idea.” Pansy grabbed her bag as well and followed him. “I don’t even know what Potter was doing here. His table is all the way on the other side of the hall.”

“Maybe he was visiting Loo-, I mean Lovegood.” He looked behind him to see if the Ravenclaw had been anywhere near them, but before he could spot her Pansy tugged hard on his sleeve and brought him to a halt, and for good reason. “Professor McGonagall.”

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson.” Their new headmaster held out their new schedules, but just before Pansy could take them she pulled them away again. Her lips thinned dangerously. “Why is there a large burn stain on the Slytherin table?”

“Because apparently the mailing system of this school allows dangerous cursed objects to be delivered to a student surrounded by innocent younger years.” Pansy snapped before Draco could answer. “And you know, fine if the school allows those things to be delivered to Draco, because he knows how to dismantle them. But an owl can easily drop a letter like that on someone else’s plate, which is something worth thinking about in my opinion.”

“Of course it is, and of course we are very careful with mail.” McGonagall fixed Pansy down with a stern look, and Pansy shot an angry one right back. Draco did a careful step back, trying very hard not to be noticed. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this collision of giants. “It’s good to hear you care about the wellbeing of your fellow students, Miss Parkinson.”

“I always care, professor. Whatever it takes to keep children safe, I’ll do. Especially when no one else is looking out for them.” Now Draco thought Pansy had gone too far. Not that some of it wasn’t true; McGonagall had been less than helpful to Slytherin the year before, even though more than eighty percent of those students had desperately tried to stay neutral in the conflict. But when it came to making bad decisions in times of war McGonagall certainly wasn’t the worst. In fact she was barely mentionable. It wasn’t fair to call her out.

He couldn’t go and say that though. His newfound and goddamn annoying anxiety made his throat seize up. Not that he would have been able to find any words to say if that hadn’t happened though. He had no idea how he was supposed to interact with the woman whose best friend he’d tried to murder, not to mention what he’d done to her students.

“There is always someone looking out for every student here at Hogwarts.” McGonagall looked defiant as she spoke, chin lifted and glare still on. “And of course sometimes things slip past us, but as a whole-”

“Yeah right. Say that to Theodore Nott. Oh no wait, you can’t, because he’s on the suicide ward with three years worth of depression and scars on his wrists. Looking out for every student my arse.” Pansy’s eyes were flaming, and Draco really, _really_ wanted to leave. The conflict happening inside his mind between caring for his friends and making up for his own mistakes was making him dizzy. Luckily he didn’t have to choose sides right there and then, because Pansy grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the Great Hall. “Come on Draco. We’re done here.”

“You are so getting detention for that.” Draco shook his head, still incapable to process the fight. On one hand the headmistress had been right, because teachers did look out for students. Problem was that said looking out was rather shallow, and the person who was supposed to dig deeper, well… No one wanted to open up to professor Snape. Which was why Pansy was also right. And she was his friend, so he shouldn’t put his own wish to apologize above her wishes.

“I don’t care. She had to hear it and I’m the only one who’s willing to bloody talk.” Pansy was still fuming from the fight, but calmed a little when she saw his face. “Relax, Draco. I’m not an idiot. I won’t get expelled and I won’t drag you into this. I’ll even apologize to McGook. I just wanted her to hear our side of the story for once. To see things from another perspective, that’s all.”

“If you say so.” Draco shrugged, and Pansy didn’t respond anymore. They trudged to their first class of that morning in silence, both thinking of very similar yet different things. Pansy thought of a dialogue with the headmistress, and a possible career in serious journalism instead of the filth her mother produced. Draco thought about how knowing you were wrong, didn’t mean you knew what was _right_. He really hoped that was something that wouldn’t come to bite him in the arse when he tried to apologise.

* * *

The woman with the russian accent didn't turn out to be their defence teacher after all. That class was now taught by an uninspiring ministry official who looked like the living version of professor Binns. 

Instead she taught muggle studies, which was now mandatory for everyone. The idea behind that was that muggleborns and half bloods could help the purebloods understand the muggle world. A good idea, only Draco and Pansy had managed to get such a terrible reputation that no one would help them.

Lucky for them, the first few weeks of classes would just be about theory. Their lack of friends would only start to pose a problem in November, when practical classes like riding a bike and shopping would begin.

“Alright class, which one of you can tell me how many pounds go into one galleon?” The Professor let her eyes go over the class, and they stayed on Draco a little bit longer than he liked. But though he knew the answer, he didn’t give it. He was still a bit out of breath after climbing all the stairs to the fifth floor with his heavy book bag. Neither prison nor two months spent mostly in bed had done wonders for his stamina. He might have to take up early morning jogging again. In fact, he decided that he definitely was going to do just that, because by the end of the class he’d still barely managed to catch his breath back.

“By Morgana’s dirty underwear, Draco. You sounded like a bloody asthma patient back there.” Pansy hissed as soon as the class was through. “Are you alright?”

“Apart from the fact that I have no muscle mass left after two months of prison and two months spent depressed in bed? Yeah sure, I’m perfectly fine, Pans. Why do you even ask?” Pansy rolled his eyes at his sarcasm, but didn’t comment on it. Instead they locked arms and made their way to their next class, mostly ignored by their peers. The lower years were much more responsive, and cowered away as soon as they caught sight of him, or they glared daggers and tried to make him trip. Draco wasn’t sure which one he hated the most, he just knew every incident made him hate himself a bit more.

The following weeks were spent pretty much the same. He and Pansy sat somewhere at the back of the class each time while Draco breathed like a big newfoundlander in the full sun. It wasn’t fun, losing his stamina, especially for someone who used to be athletic. To add insult to injury, he also couldn’t start jogging in the morning. Mostly because he kept running into other people whom he owed an apology.

Most of them weren’t as forgiving as Neville, or as fast and awkward as Harry. They asked difficult questions, had stories of their own side to share and often didn’t want to talk to him face to face at all, which led to an endless amount of apology writing. His nightmares were repeatedly about his interrogations in Azkaban. About the endless accusations and questions that made him want to pull his own hair out. One night he actually did that, after which Pansy was forced to braid and charm his hair each night before bed. Her regular visits were tolerated by his other roommates, but he still got side-eyed for them, especially by Potter. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just really disliked Pansy, even though he had persuaded the girl to apologise to the Gryffindor after a few days.

Another reason why he couldn’t jog, was that he didn't trust himself not to faint as eating was still a problem. The constant glaring and occasional hexes thrown his way ruined his appetite. Almost hourly he cursed himself for being such a sensitive eater. He’d tried eating in the kitchens instead of the great hall, but that wasn’t a success either. Apparently a lot of house elves from the manor had been relocated in the Hogwarts kitchens. Their many _hello master Draco sir_ ’s and pitiful eyes, for they had seen what living with the Dark Lord had meant for him, drove him right into another panic attack. He stuck to the Great Hall after that, trying to ignore the stares and taking his meals one small bite at a time.

Things became somewhat better after most of the apologies were behind him though. It meant he could now hide in the library most afternoons and nights, pouring over his studies. It was after one of those nights the incident happened. Tired to the bone, Draco had seen the tripping jinx, but he’d lacked the energy to step over it. After he landed harshly on the ground, two fourth year Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff approached.

“Ah, look at that. The filthy death eater has fallen for us. How cute.” Draco rolled onto his back to get a better look at the Ravenclaw who’d spoken but otherwise didn’t move. Of course he had his fingers firmly wrapped around his wand, but these were fourth years. They probably couldn’t do him any harm, and if they could he’d disarm them in half a second. After all looking defeated was a great way to catch an enemy off guard.

“By which he means how gross.” The Hufflepuff filled in. The boy crossed his arms and clearly thought he was being a very _tough guy_. Draco hated the fact that he could almost see himself in that hate-filled face. “You might have slipped through the mazes of magical law, but justice will still be served here.”

“We shouldn’t even be teaching your kind at all. Wisdom is power, and you idiot Slytherins clearly cannot handle that.” The second Ravenclaw chipped in. Now that fired up some anger in Draco’s chest. It was fine if they didn’t want him there because of his mark, but attacking his house? He wasn’t having that. “Ah, look. We made the shirt lifter angry.”

“Yes indeed you did.” Came a new voice. Draco whipped his head around, which was rather painful as he was still on the floor, and saw Potter march down the hall with his wand drawn and his gaze turned furious. “I give you lot exactly two seconds to get out of my sight before I curse you to hell and don’t ever bring you back.”

The three kids were gone before he was even done talking. Potter lowered his wand then, and turned to him with a way too serious expression on his face. “Are you alright?”

“Splendid, Potter. Thank you for asking. Just a pity that those tough guys disturbed my nap.” Potter gave him the side eye for that, before letting those green eyes travel over his body, clearly on the hunt for a sign of injury. Draco sighed. “I’m fine, Potter. Really. It was just a tripping jinx.”

Potter’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You failed to spot a tripping jinx? And here I was thinking that you were an at least semi-competent wizard.”

“I saw the jinx perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Draco slowly got to his feet, trying to casually seek support from the wall as his head started spinning again. “It’s just that my legs decided they could use a break so they never stopped walking. These things are in my way so often, there comes a time when stepping over them is just too much bloody fuss.”

Potter seemed to relax after that, before growing annoyed and slightly flustered. It wasn’t exactly heroic to come save someone who had a situation perfectly under control. Ish, anyway. “Too good for a little leg work then? It shouldn’t have surprised me, that was always your worst move during quidditch.”

“You looked at my legs much during quidditch?” Draco raised a single eyebrow, greatly enjoying the fact that he had one and a half inch on Potter. “No wonder you’d sometimes catch the snitch in your mouth. It must hang open in awe at every glance you get.”

To his great surprise, that flustered Potter so much his cheeks heated and he lost the ability to speak for a moment. When Draco leaned against the wall and carelessly crossed his legs at the ankle, he only made the situation worse. Potter even stuttered a bit before bringing out, “Oh just fuck off Malfoy.”

And with that brilliant comeback, the Gryffindor stomped off.

* * *

“Pansy?” Draco found his best friend already on his bed when he returned from his disastrous library trip. He made sure the curtains were properly closed before he asked the rest of his question. “What’s a shirt lifter?”

Thinking about Potter and what his weird reactions all meant had given him a headache. It’d been much easier to just focus on a more practical part of the whole ordeal which he didn’t understand; The term shirt lifter. Surely everyone who’d ever worn a shirt, had also lifted it too. And if it was an insult of a sexual nature then he didn’t get it either. Lifting your shirt would show your stomach, and unless you showed that to a belly button fetishist that wasn’t the world’s most sexual body part.

It just made no sense.

Pansy frowned. “Did someone call you a shirt lifter?”

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t ask.”

“Well as far as I know it’s an offensive way for naming a gay person. But I don’t know why that is.” She added when Draco opened his mouth to ask for an explanation. “Who called you that?”

“Some fourth years after I tripped over their jinx. They didn’t say much more than that though, because then Potter came in with wands blazing and chased them off.” _And when I tried to have some banter about my legs he got flustered and fucked off._ But he didn’t say that. Pansy would immediately read all kinds of things into it and he couldn’t handle that right now. He had too much to think about already, like if the slur had actually been wrong. “It was quite funny to watch the cockyness drain from their faces, actually.”

“I’m sure it was.” Pansy said distractedly. She was looking at him in that piercing way that made him suspect she had at least some power of legilimens. As if she could see right through him. “Hey Draco, do  you think there was a truth to it? To what they called you?”

“Well I _have_ lifted a shirt before in my life, as has pretty much everyone else.” He tried jokingly, but obviously Pansy didn’t fall for that one. “But no.” It was easier to deny it and stick to his possible lie than to dig around and find the truth. It wasn’t as if his life wasn’t hard enough yet without also having to be gay. Though maybe the fact that he doubted it at all should have been a clue for the answer.

“Are you sure?” Pasny raised an unimpressed eyebrow, which Draco deliberately didn’t look at. “You know it’s okay if you are, right? That preserving the family name bullshit went down the drain when You Know Who died, and I’m pretty sure the only thing your mother wants from you right now is that you’re happy.”

“Well, good for her, but I’m still not gay.” He flopped down on his bed and looked at the ceiling instead of Pansy’s eyeroll. “And I’m also not going to father a child, like, _ever_ . Do you know how much babies shit?” _And how much I’d such at being a dad? I can’t raise a child if I can’t even feed myself some decent breakfast. And I definitely can’t love them when I hate myself so much I sometimes want to hit myself with a hammer._ But he didn’t say that, even though he knew Pansy might be able to pick him up.

“Fine then, you’re not gay. Just as long as you know that it’s okay if you are.” Draco tried rolling his eyes but ended up just looking away. This conversation was making him incredibly uncomfortable. Pansy saw that too, and when it became clear he wouldn’t say anything more about the subject she changed it. “I’m exhausted, can I sleep in here tonight?”

“Sure.” He sat up, folded his duvet open and allowed Pansy to climb in. “Just don’t hog the blankets or I’ll kick you out.”

“Hmmm, just like my mom did.” Pansy rubbed her face against his pillow with a tired smile. “And on top of that everyone in this building hates me. It’s just like home.”

“I don’t hate you.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t difficult to spot when Pansy needed some TLC. “In fact, I love you very much.”

“I know.” The Indonesian woman already sounded half asleep. “Love you too.”

Draco smiled, and then headed for the bathroom while shoving all doubts about his sexuality into the back of his mind. As he went to brush his teeth Potter entered and shot him his foulest glare yet, which didn’t make sense at all. Why save him from those fourth years if Potter still hated him so much? Why was it banter in one moment, then getting flustered and glared to death ten minutes later?

Confused, he blamed it on The Saviour’s hero complex and went to brush his teeth. It was too late to figure out the weird case that was Harry Potter now anyway.

* * *

 

Pushing the thoughts about his sexuality away suddenly became a lot harder when Draco stepped out of bed the next morning just as Potter emerged from the steamy shower with only a towel clinging to his hips. It was immediately clear that the boy wonder didn’t struggle with any kind of weight issue the way he did. His chest was toned and covered in scars that just screamed bravery to anyone who saw them. They were all ragged, gotten in battle or on the run. Nothing like the neat lines on Draco’s own chest, which partially came from Potter himself but mostly from his aunt, Fenrir and the mysterious event that had been seventh year Christmas break. Then there were his shoulders, which looked so strong and broad that Draco got the weird urge to wrap his arms around them and see if his hands could meet on his back. Topped off with a still dripping mob of hair tied up in a bun and… Draco was staring. Very openly staring.

“Put a bloody shirt on, Potter.” He mumbled as he grabbed his toiletries and almost ran into the bathroom, locking the door before he could hear Potter’s reply. _Merlin_ , but that was weird. Because Potter wasn’t hot, was he? No. No he wasn’t. Or maybe he was, but that was just objectively speaking. Like a diamond. A diamond could be hot. Or maybe not hot, but pretty. But that didn’t mean he wanted to fuck a diamond. Or Potter. Because Potter was pretty like a diamond. Nice to look at, purely objectively speaking, and that was it. “Bloody Merlin Draco get your life together.” He tried to tell himself sternly as he sank onto the bathroom floor. “Potter pretty like a diamond? It’s not even true. He’s more like a-”

He cut himself off before starting a whole conversation with himself. That would mean he was actually going mad. Because he had to be going mad if he thought Potter was hot. Which he didn’t, thank you very much. “He’s aesthetically pleasing and that’s _it_.” Draco grumbled as he pulled out the brain from his hair. “There, I said it. Now I can bloody well forget it ever happened.”

But Draco couldn’t forget it ever happened. Something had clicked in him, and now each time Potter entered or left a room, Draco found himself following him with his eyes. Pansy found this endlessly entertaining, and teased him about it every chance she got, making it even harder to put the whole business out of his head. And on top of that Potter himself wasn’t making things easier either. Every time a petty spell was aimed his way when Potter was near him, the Gryffindor blocked it and glared at the culprits until they left him well alone. This only strengthened the rumours that Draco was a ‘shirt lifter’ for some reason, besides also doubling the amount of people trying to trip him. He’d gone from one of the more graceful students at Hogwarts to an idiot even clumsier than Neville. And though he was actually coming to like Neville, he didn’t enjoy the permanent bruises on his skin resulting from their similarity.

Avoiding Potter wasn’t an option either, because they shared almost all their classes. Only ancient runes and arithmancy were spent without him, and he usually managed to still bump into Potter on his way there. It made him go a bit mad, because after a few weeks he didn’t know anymore if Potter was stalking him, if he was stalking Potter or if the castle just bend its bricks in order to get them to meet at least every hour. All he knew for sure was that Potter was somehow taking over his life again and he didn’t like it. At one point he even started to deliberately stare at Neville, trying to convince himself that he was just into fit blokes, not fit blokes with black hair, green eyes and a crooked tie specifically. It lead to some very interesting and even fun afternoons spend in the greenhouses, but at the end of the day he still found himself peeking through the curtains when Potter emerged from the bathroom. He couldn’t care more about the others no matter how hard he tried.

It was only a month after the incident, and one month into the school year when Draco was forced to sit down with Pansy again and spill the beans. She’d threatened to shave him bald in his sleep otherwise, and in all honesty he felt like he might explode if he didn’t talk about this thing with anyone soon.

“So…”

“So…” Pansy, ever the annoying bitch, repeated after him.

“I might… I might be… into-, into men.” He felt like an idiotic five year old with a stutter getting laughed at by the rest of the class, even though Pansy was looking quite serious. “And… Now I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know what… just-, _things_ , you know? I don’t know.” He stared at his nails, hoping that by some miracle he’d find some solid advice on them. Merlin knew he needed it. When Pansy didn’t say anything back, he added with a small voice,  “I don’t want it.”

“I think very few people want it, Draco. I didn’t, at any rate.” She gently took his shaking hands in her own and squeezed. “We were in the middle of the war, finding out I’m a lesbian was the last thing I needed. But Draco, we both come from an arranged marriage. We never saw love up close. _I_ never saw love up close, until I accepted who I was, who I loved and that she loved me back. And I can tell you now, that however much you want to be normal now, you want to be loved like that even more. It’s worth it once you find it.”

“Pansy, I’m a death eater. Straight or not, no one will ever love me like that.” He tried not to sound as hurt as he was, but judging by Pansy’s face he’d done a horrible job. Yet another thing he’d failed at. “I fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck up Draco.” Pansy told him sternly. She wasn’t unmoved by the tears slowly filling up his eyes, but she _was_ capable of keeping her emotions out of things when necessary. “Or maybe you did fuck up, but not by being gay. And you didn’t fuck up so bad no one will ever love you. _I_ love you, for a start. And you could always try dating muggles.”

“Pansy I am mentally completely fucked up, no muggle would ever understand me.” Now he really was crying, and he left like a right idiot because of it. Being gay hadn’t exactly altered his odds on the dating market. “It’s just no fun to think about these things knowing that it’s all just in my head anyway. It’s not… No matter how much I want it, it will still never be _real_ , you know? Not for me.”

“Don’t say that.” Pansy swiftly climbed into his lap and harshly kissed his forehead. “Don’t say that Draco, it’s not true. Things will get better if you just give it time. You’re already trying so hard.”

“Yes, and a fat load of good that did for me.” He sniffed and wiped his nose. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. That’s not why I do all this but _fuck_ , Pansy. It just _hurts_ , okay? Everything in my life fell apart. I lost Vince, Blaise won’t even fucking talk to us, my family home is gone, mom collapsed and I spend too bloody months reliving every _vile_ detail of that stupid war and I can’t even feel sad about it because I brought it all upon myself but it _hurts_.”

“I know it does, babe. I know it does.” Pansy rubbed soothing circles onto his back, trying to calm him down. “But being gay isn’t one of those many shit things, alright? It’s something beautiful, even if you can’t see that now. And it’s alright if it takes a few weeks, months or even years to sink in. Just as long as you know that it’s not a bad thing, alright?”

Draco nodded. Or at least he thought he did. Everything was a bit of a mess, and as usual after a lot of crying and intense emotions, he was already asleep five minutes later. 


	5. Chapter 5

Let the parties end when we lose our friends

'Cause you cut through all the noise

-The Anchor, Bastille

Draco’s mind was scattered after that night. So much so, that his constant Potter-staring was interrupted by it. Now every time he looked at the Gryffindor all he could feel was the realisation hitting him that it would never work out. Not with a man, and definitely not with the boy wonder. The mere idea drew a bitter laugh from him every time. A death eater and the hero of the magical world. The press backlash alone was enough to throw the idea out the window.

Besides, they didn’t even _talk_ to each other. Sure, Potter now nodded at him in greeting, still followed him around a bit (or the castle was back at it again with the weird walking routes) and still blocked a lot of minor hexes for him, but that was it. Only during potions they sometimes exchanged a few words, mostly because Potter tended to grab the complete opposite of the ingredients they needed, and Draco saw it as his duty to not let the guy blow up half the school. If anyone was going to do that, it had to be Finnigan. Potter couldn’t get all the credit for disasters every time.

Potter also still glared at him every time he was together with Pansy, and Draco didn’t care for that shit at all. She was his best friend, she’d apologized and if due to some weird reasoning Potter had forgiven him but not her, then he could fuck right off. After everything they’d been through together, he wasn’t about to tolerate someone hating on Pansy even if it was Potter. But as avoiding conflict this year was pretty much his main goal, he didn’t confront Potter about it. Instead he just went to bed increasingly late so he wouldn’t see him at all, not that it mattered one bit to the actual sleep he wasn’t getting anyway. The sight of Potter in just his boxers made him want things he couldn’t have anyway, so it was probably for the best he didn’t get to see that anymore.

It was for this reason, that Draco was still in the library half an hour after closing time. He’d found out last year that there were a couple secluded corners which madam Pince never checked. It wasn’t his plan to fall asleep amidst the books though, so he was just on his way out when he spotted something strange. There, over by the furthest table of the transfiguration section, lay a thing on the table. It had the shape of a head, a human head. When he tiptoed closer, he found out to his great relief that it wasn’t a decapitated student, just Potter half asleep under his invisibility cloak. He doubted for a moment if he should wake the guy up. On one hand, it was the decent thing to do, on the other hand, he might have to explain why he was in the library so late. Somehow _I’ve been hiding from you because you give me gay feelings but also hate my best friend and make me realise I’m unlovable_ didn’t seem like a good thing to say to a grudgy Potter.

In the end, he still decided to be decent and wake him up, partially because the cute frown of Potter’s forehead as he slept made him feel things he wasn’t prepared for, and that had to stop.

“Potter.” He pulled the cloak away, folded it and lay it on the table. “Potter, you fell asleep. The library is closed now.”

Potter came to very, very slowly, and then suddenly all at once. “Sweet Merlin crap, what? Malfoy!” Potter was baffled to see him there, and had to blink a few times before he believed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Being awake. Something I couldn’t say about you five seconds ago.” Sass was usually a good way to go when it came to distracting Potter. “What are you doing here?”

“I, eh, I-, I sort of still have to write my transfiguration essay?” Potter looked at him as if he was supposed to know the answer to that question.

“You mean the transfiguration essay that makes up twenty percent of your final theoretical score, that had to delve into animal-object transformations in depth and should be at least thirty inches long?” He raised an eyebrow. He found it quite difficult to believe that a best friend of Hermione Granger could be so hopelessly behind on such a vital subject. “The essay that is due tomorrow morning at nine?”

“Yeah, yeah, rub my poor time management in my face why don’t you.” It looked like Potter was trying to glare at him, but his eyes were too tired. “I just find it very hard to see the importance of all this for my future, so I really can’t be arsed.”

“Not everything correlates directly with useful things for your future, but if you still want to be an auror, or just a simple wizard who can’t be conned into buying transfigured crap, this topic is quite directly important for the rest of your life.” Draco took a daring step forward and scanned over the first few paragraphs of Potter’s essay. It was about how the core and movement of a wand influenced the result of transfiguration spells. An easy subject to write about, but it was research heavy and Draco didn’t doubt Harry had more to bring to the table. The Gryffindor might struggle to focus, but he wasn’t an idiot. “And if you want to finish this on time, I suggest you change your topic to visual tell-tales that betray both transfigured objects and animals. The theory is a bit more tricky, but also more hands on so you won’t get bored out of your mind while you write.”

“Oh.” Potter stared a bit sheepishly at him, then his essay and then back at him. “But I already started.”

“But a start is useless if you don’t finish. Besides, I doubt even McGonagall can read this hasty written chicken scratch.” He picked the essay up and held it needlessly close to his face. “I mean, does this say _wand_ or _wound_? Are you you going to wave your wound around? Because I’m no healer, but that sounds like an awful idea.”

“You sound like an awful idea.” Potter muttered under his breath. Draco pretended he hadn’t heard that and handed him his essay back. And then, after rethinking his life choices several times, he spoke again.

“You know I could help you, if you want. I never sleep much anyway and I’m not a complete disaster when it comes to transfiguration.” Draco stubbornly kept his eyes on the table instead of Potter, lest he’d see ridicule or laughter on his face. He wasn’t usually one to offer his help, and now he remembered why; If Potter laughed him out of the room he’d look like a complete arse.

“You never get anything but _outstanding_ ’s on your theory exams, you show off.” Potter huffed. Or at least he tried to huff, but a yawn took over his face halfway through. “But I can use any and all help I get at the moment, so yeah, uh, thanks.”

“Alright.” Draco sat down and immediately put all of his focus on Potter’s essay. Anything to escape the awkwardness of the situation. He quickly summoned a few books and started on an outline, writing next to each topic how long it had to be, and in which order they had to be written. “Here you go.” He slid the parchment to Potter and felt his face heat when the guy looked at him in what was almost awe. “It’s nothing much. I used to do that type of thing for Vince, Greg and Millicent.” _And Blaise when he was being a lazy arse_. But he didn’t say that. Mentioning Vince hurt enough as it was. Adding Blaise might make him lose his composure, and no one wanted that.

“Still looks hella practical.” Draco pulled a face when he heard such hedonistic language, but otherwise didn’t respond. Soon enough Potter bent over a second parchment scroll and began to write. Sometimes when he hit a bump in the road they bounced questions back and forth until they found an answer that made sense. Draco carefully avoided just telling Potter what to write when that happened. For lazy people it could be practical, but Potter was actually trying at this and spoiling the answers would be nothing short of condescending.

When the hour was well past five but not quite at the six, Potter threw his quill down, made sure the ink was dry and then dropped his head on the table with a loud thud. “Transfiguration is awful.”

“Awfully convenient in almost every kind of situation.” Draco said it just to get a bit of a rise out of Potter, but exhaustion had claimed him again. “Oh no don’t fall asleep on me now, Potter.” He poked Potter with his quill, then his finger and eventually he even shook him, but it all didn’t do shit. Draco sighed. Of course this would happen to him. Eventually he didn’t want to begin any more drastic measures, so he set an alarm at half past seven and left. That way madam Pince wouldn’t find Draco himself, but she would find Potter half asleep in the library when the alarm went off. That way she’d only find the unpunishable boy wonder and they’d both be safe.

Draco was still in a terrible mood though, and not because he hadn’t had any sleep at all. No, he was pissed because it had been bloody _fun_ to work with Potter, and now he knew what he missed. What he could never have, except during the occasional late night writing session.

And to say that sucked, was the biggest understatement of the year.

* * *

 

“Malfoy! Malfoy wait!” Draco had been quietly avoiding Potter ever since their study session in the library, but he should have known that wouldn’t work long with the Gryffindor. He was way too crass and direct for that, which he proved by running through the hallway yelling Draco’s name like a rampant baboon. Draco hated it that he was kind of endeared by it. “Check what McGonagall wrote under my essay.”

Potter thrust his essay into Draco’s hand with a grin on his face that lit up the entire caste. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, not even trying to contain his excitement. Draco couldn’t imagine showing his emotions so openly. It looked both liberating and terrifying. But at least Potter was happy. Draco had not seen him this happy in a very long time, and… He was staring again. Quickly he averted his eyes and scanned through McGonagall’s comments.

 

_This essay shows real progress, Mr. Potter. I could see you started writing with a clear direction in mind, which made the information you told both more to the point and and more compact. It did not feel like you were trying to finish thirty inches, but like you were trying to get your point across. The only thing that still needs work is the originality of said point. You are in your final year now, your stance should be a little bit more bold._

 

_Mark: E (Exceeded Expectations)_

 

“I’ve never gotten an E on an essay before. Only on some of my spell work.” Potter was still bouncing, and Draco really _really_ wished he could be annoyed by it. No luck so far though, especially when he looked up to see Potter’s grin was now actually directed at _him_ , instead of his essay. As if Potter was _grateful_ for Draco’s help. No one was ever grateful for his help, especially not this openly. Slytherins were way too determined to do everything on their own, and only accepted help quietly, making sure they did a little bit more back so they wouldn’t be in debt to anyone. This was completely different. “Thanks. For helping me, I mean.”

“Don’t, eh, don’t mention it.” Heat flared up into his cheeks and he quickly turned his eyes back to the essay, afraid to get caught staring again. A pity, because it meant he missed the fact that Potter blushed too. “It really is high praise, especially coming from McGonagall. Millie or the others I helped never got that.”

Potter chuckled. “Is that your way of saying I did a good job?”

“Oh piss off.” Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t get the corners of his mouth down for the life of him. Stupid Potter making him all happy and giving him wrinkles and cramp in his jaw. Idiot. “You’re fishing in the wrong pond if you’re looking for compliments.”

“Sure I am.” Potter joked. Then he closed his eyes in a way that didn’t really look like ordinary blinking, and Draco frowned. Had the Gryffindor just tried (and failed) to wink at him? Before he could ask though, Potter snatched the essay out of his hands and made his exit with a quick mumbled, “Well thanks anyway.”

And then he was gone, leaving Draco behind with empty hands and an ever growing identity crisis.

* * *

 

Draco stopped trying to avoid Potter after that moment because he didn’t want the Gryffindor yelling his name through the hallways anymore. His plan to keep his head down this year had had a little rocky start here and there, but he was still very much trying. That, and he had too much on his mind to think about odd routes to classrooms that wouldn’t have Potter or fellow students on them. Both of them tried to avoid crowds for very different reasons, and Potter seemed to know the castle almost better than Draco himself.

Potter had not been interested in talking or studying much though, for the same reason Draco had too much on his mind. Halloween was coming up, and because the past years had been so depressing the school board had decided that this year’s feast had to be bigger than ever. There were even rumours of the Weird Sisters playing there, and two weeks before the party decorations and announcements had exploded in the halls of the castle. Every Jack o lantern or glittery poster worsened Draco’s mood, and for some reason the same went for Potter. Not that Draco was paying that much attention to him. The cheerful pre-feast festivities only reminded him of the many people who weren’t going to attend; Theo, because he was still in hospital, Blaise, because the prick had abandoned them, Millie because she couldn’t bear the sight of the castle anymore, Greg due to grief and Vince because he was dead. His entire friend group which had once been so close was now scattered and ruined. His safety net, his _family_ was gone. The entire idea of a party sounded like a big joke to him. There was nothing to celebrate. And he doubted there ever would be again. At least for him.

When Halloween finally came it was icy cold outside, but that could not be said for the inside of the castle. Despite more than one person hating the entire feast, most students had grabbed the excuse to party with both hands. At some level Draco understood that. This was the first party since the war had ended for many Hogwarts students. The teenagers were almost begging for a reason to let loose. Draco couldn’t cope with it though. Not with the noise of all the talking, not with the strong smell of a grand banquet and not with the cheer everyone but him seemed to have. Pansy might have forced him to at least check the feast out, but after only five minutes he left the Great Hall one step away from running.

Once escaped he headed outside. A long walk through the edges of the Forbidden Forest sounded like a much better plan. Strong cold made it easier to snap out of his slowly growing panic attack, and it kept his eyes open. His nightmares had worsened the days leading up to Halloween. If he’d slept two hours a night it would be a lot.  

When the sound of the Great Hall’s party cheer faded away he upped his pace. He needed the rustle of the leaves to replace it, lest his ears came up with entertaining alternatives for the silence. Soon enough the younger, less threatening trees rose up around him, casting a moonshadow onto the path. The forest was filled with more life than it had been last year, and Draco spent about ten minutes watching a bowtruckle go about his business before casting his eyes to the ground again. His breathing had returned to normal, making his late night walk almost enjoyable. He went looking for traces of thestrals after a while. The creatures had charmed him during his stolen moments of relative peace in sixth and seventh year, keeping everyone but Luna Lovegood at bay just with their odd looks.

He found the traces after a couple of minutes, but there was something odd about them. A human set of footsteps had followed them, not too long ago as far as Draco could tell. He dimmed the light of his wand, gripped the wood a little tighter and made sure his cloak covered him on all sides. His hair would give him away in a split second if seen.

Slowly, he made his way through the woods, slightly deeper than he’d usually venture, but the call of curiosity wasn’t one he could resist this time. He had to know who was with the herd. Thestral body parts were expensive on the potion market these days. And after all the peace and kindness the animals had given him, he couldn’t just turn his back and walk away. He had done that too many times already.

When the trees started growing taller and thicker, creating the idea of an early fallen night, he reached a clearing. The thestarls were there, calmly walking about, but the owner of the footprints was nowhere in sight. Draco knew exactly where he was pretty soon though.

“Drop the wand.” A sharp wand point nearly broke the skin on the back of his neck and a hard knee shoved against his lower back made his legs collapse. Draco obeyed the hard, almost cold voice without hesitation.

“Lower your hood.”

Draco obeyed again. He recognized the voice behind him, but it belonged to someone who had tried to kill him once before. He doubted that would happen again, but he wasn’t going to risk it. When his capturer walked around him though, and his green eyes showed embarrassment rather than anger, he couldn’t help but let out a huff.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Potter crossed his arms and glared down at him, effectively hiding his embarrassment. “And why the _fuck_ do you walk around with your hood pulled up? I thought you were a bloody death eater.”

“Well…” Now it was Draco’s turn to be embarrassed. “I am.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny Malfoy. I meant a real one.” Draco didn’t know if he was supposed to be humoured or offended by that, so he ignored the remark. “Now answer my questions. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Walking, Potter. Wasn’t in much of a party mood you see?” He took a deep breath and forced any more snark to stay in his throat. Potter still had him on his knees with a wand pointed at him, while his own was on the forest floor. “I don’t fancy being present when our dormmates come back half drunk and start feeling each other up, so I went to find the thestrals. They’re friendlier and kinder to me than most people.”

Potter huffed. “I wonder why that is.”

“I think it’s because I was a racist bullying idiot before, and after that apparently a fake death eater. Though that’s just a wild guess of course.” He shrugged, trying to feign confidence. “Maybe people just don’t like my socks.”

“Your socks?” To his utter bafflement Potter suddenly lowered his wand and after a couple seconds he burst out in genuine laughter. The Gryffindor even had to steady himself against the nearest tree as his entire body shook with it. Draco made use of the distraction by quickly picking up his wand and getting back on his feet. Then he turned to the wonderfully strange sight of seeing Potter fall to the floor, gripping his shaking stomach. “You… _Socks_.”

“Yes, Potter. Socks.” Draco hitched up his robes when Potter seemed capable of looking through his teary eyes again. The upper part of his socks were visible above his shoe. They were purple, with a silver stitchings in the shape of clouds. Clouds that were raining at that moment, though a golden-stitched sun broke through after a few seconds. “One usually wears then on their feet. Though I’ve heard some muggles do truly appealing other things with them.”

Draco blinked a couple of times as Potter’s loud laughter got replaced by silent shaking. In fear of the other boy never catching his breath again, Draco hid the socks. He was utterly baffled by Potter’s response, especially when he still hadn’t stopped laughing almost a full minute later. With a sigh, he sat down next to the shaking Gryffindor and waited until he’d recovered.

“Sorry.” Potter pulled off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “That was just… A bit of an unexpected rollercoaster.”

“I do not know what that is.” Draco admitted. “But it doesn’t sound very fun.”

“I’ve never been in one, but they are supposed to be fun.” Potter wiped his glasses on his robes and shook his head.  “Sorry for reacting like that.”

Draco chuckled at the bizarreness of it all. Maybe their situation was kind of funny when he looked at it now. “Sorry for creeping up on you.”

“You know I saw a bit your hair first, when you walked over here, and I actually thought you were a unicorn for a moment.” Potter snickered again, and Draco joined him.

“Really? A unicorn? I suppose I should take that as a compliment, however odd that sounds.” He shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. And what was happening _now_. “Why are you here, actually? I saw your friends at the party.”

“Wasn’t in the mood either.” All the joy suddenly melted off Potter’s face, drawing Draco’s attention in even more. “My parents died on the night of Halloween. Never really have been able to enjoy the holiday after finding out about that. And I missed them tonight so I… Well, doesn’t really matter now I suppose. I won’t find it anyway.”

Draco frowned, curiosity drawn. “Won’t find what?”

“Nothing.” Potter replied in a tone that meant that it was definitely not nothing. “Like I said it doesn’t matter, I won’t find it anyway.”

“Well you definitely won’t if you just give up like that.” He shot Potter a haughty look, hoping it would make him jump into action. Seeing a defeated Potter was not a pretty sight. “And if you tell me what it is I can help you look for it. I bet I can find it before you do.”

“You’d help me?” Potter’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Didn’t see that coming after I planted my knee in your back. But no, I think it’s best if no one finds it. Especially not you.”

“Especially not me? Now I definitely want to find it. How cruel of you to leave me hanging like that.” He put his hand against his back and let out a theatrical moan. “Especially after nearly shattering one of my  vertebrae.”

“Oh do shut up.” Potter rolled his eyes. Something Draco was glad to see he did with less skill than him. “You always were a drama queen. But I’ll tell you, if you promise not to tell anyone else about it. I meant it when I said that it’s best never to be found again.”

“Now you’re making me think it’s some sort of obscure cursed artifact. This is getting more interesting by the minute.” He turned to Potter and crossed his legs. “Go on then. I promise not to tell anyone else. Now spill the beans.”

“You look altogether too happy about me telling you. But alright. I suppose I owe you one for that transfiguration essay anyway.” Potter shook his head, a small smile coming back to his lips. “So, during the battle, I went in here when Voldemort asked me to. That had something to do with a prophecy and a pensive memory I won’t bore you with, but bottom line was, I came here to die.”

“Why?” The question was asked before Draco could stop himself. He just couldn’t imagine walking into his own death like that. Sure, he would have died for his family, but… Potter didn’t have one. Luckily Potter wasn’t mad at him, he just gave him a saddened smile.

“Because when Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, the idiot left a piece of himself with me so if I didn’t die I could be used to bring him back. He couldn’t die if I was still alive.” The obvious question was right on Draco’s tongue, but Potter answered it before he could speak. On a whole the Gryffindor was just speaking very fast, as if he wanted to have the story told, even though he didn’t really want to _tell_ the story. “So he did kill me, and then I came back _again_ because my mother’s protective magic that was in me, was inside Voldemort as well so I was basically still tied to the living world. I think. I’m not sure, but anyway, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

“It’s not?” Draco’s voice sounded strangely high pitched and he felt a bit faint. Technically what Potter was saying all made perfect sense, magic-theory wise, but to actually have it happen to a person, to _Potter_ , was… Fucked up, to say the least.

“No, because what I was looking for before you so rudely interrupted me,” Potter glared at him, but there wasn’t any malice in his eyes. “Was the resurrection stone. Dumbledore had left it to me in his will, so that when I walked into the death he knew was waiting for me I wouldn’t be alone. But just before I reached the clearing I dropped it. But tonight-”

Potter was cut off by, to Draco’s great surprise, tears. Which was rather inconvenient because the mere idea that Voldemort had been standing here in this very clearing made him want to hyperventilate and vomit all at once. It would be a bit of a dick move to just steal all of Potter’s attention now, especially since he deserved to be upset a thousand times more than Draco did. And somehow, that realisation was enough. Not to clear away his panic, but to ease it until he was capable of focussing on Potter instead of himself.

“Tonight you didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to see them.” Draco carefully put his arm around Potter’s softly shaking shoulders, unsure how he would react to the touch. When Potter leaned into it, Draco decided to take a chance and pull him into a hug. He knew how much it hurt to cry alone. The guilt, sadness and grief pounding on his chest until his heart burst and his eyes ran dry and then some more. “I understand.”

“I miss them. All of them. So much.” Potter shook, and Draco shook with him. Slytherins weren’t really cry babies, but even the most cold hearted snake could not keep a dry face hearing that almost animalistic sadness. Or at least that’s what Draco told himself, when after ten minutes they were still sitting like that, tears clouding his vision.

Potter’s ongoing sobs did not really help either.

“This is ridiculous.” Potter muttered against his chest after a while. Draco feared it was a sign he’d pull away and maybe get angry, but he didn’t. In fact he relaxed a bit and sank against his chest further.

“You’re ridiculous.” He shot back eventually, his voice sounding almost affectionate. Had the situation been any different he would have kicked himself for that. “But I think we’re all a bit ridiculous. You came back from the dead twice, I’m sure only to be a pain in my arse, and I have the hair of a unicorn.” Potter’s body shook again, but Draco suspected it was with a chuckle this time so he continued. “Your hair defies gravity, and my legs have broken the meaning of the word sexy. You could produce a patronus at thirteen but still not a single ironing charm five years later and I am brilliant at potions but can set toast on fire within two seconds.”

Now Potter actually did snort, but sadly he also pulled his face away from his chest and sat up again. Somewhat reluctantly Draco let him go. A spike of guilt and some more delicate feelings went through him when the Gryffindor rubbed his arm on the place where he must have leaned against his skinny chest. He wasn’t exactly a huggable person.

They did not speak as Potter got to his feet and brushed some leaves off his jeans. Ever the muggle lover, he hadn’t been wearing robes. But when Draco made a move to get up himself, he was surprised by a held out hand that pulled him up. And even without the words, Draco knew something fundamentally had shifted between them then. Something big, confirmed by the tiny smile Potter shot him before they embarked on their way back. Maybe they really had chased off some ghosts from the past this Halloween.


	6. Chapter 6

“Alright class, for your first hands-on muggle studies class we’re going to study phones! Mobile phones to be precise.” Most students looked less that thrilled at the prospect. Not because they dreaded phones, but because the Halloween fest had continued in the eight year common room the night before with a tad more booze than intended. Only he, Pansy and Potter didn’t suffer from any kind of hangover. 

Potter shot Draco a look across the class and grinned, mouthing something Draco did not catch at all. Before he could signal that to Potter though, Professor Anezka started handing out the phones. “You will notice that these are not top of the bill smartphones, because I don’t have a very large budget and also,” she halted at their table and put a phone down in front of Draco almost threateningly, “I don’t trust you to keep these things in one piece for over an hour.”

“I think we can surprise her on that front.” Pansy whispered as soon as the professor had moved on. “I’ve been texting Millie since the start of the year.”

“You’ve been what now?” Draco’s eyes shot from the phone to Pansy to the phone and back. He could not believe she knew how to operate such a device without telling him. 

“Texting. It’s really simple. You type a short message into your phone, and then you send it to a number and that corresponds with another phone, so when you send it, it arrives there. And it’s super fast too, it takes like two seconds to get to the other side of the world.” Draco glared at her. Not because he didn’t understand the concept, he’d picked a thing or two up during his stay with the Bulstrodes, but because she’d keep that from him. Millicent was his friend too. “Oh don’t give me that look Draco. You know how those muggles are, constantly inventing weird things like tankinis and-” 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Oh, because Millie only had one mobile phone to spare. I’d share, but Millie and I do this wonderful thing called sexting, and I really don’t think you want to be involved in that.” Pansy looked all together too smug for his liking, and to add insult to injury he couldn’t even get properly mad at her. Just when he opened his mouth the professor started explaining how the mobile phone worked. 

He flipped her the bird and then focussed on the lecture. Looking stupid was a constant fear for him, but looking like a muggle hater because of it was much, much worse. 

“Alright now if you listened closely to what I just said, you’ll find today’s assignment pretty easy. I’ll be handing out a list of phone numbers matched to your classmates names in a moment. You will have to put all of them into your address book, and then call a minimum of ten people on that list. I want everyone to have their address book finished next class, and any jokester who doesn’t answer their phone or calls in the middle of the night will suffer the consequences. Am I being clear?”

The class nodded reluctantly, and once the sheets were handed out they got to work. Mayhem broke out after about five seconds as the purebloods loudly started complaining about how unfair it all was. Meanwhile those who did know how phones worked were forced to explain the most basic detail seven times over while still hungover, making for a room filled with very moody teenagers. Well, except for a select few. “Pans, if I do your transfiguration essay can you make my address book?” 

“Only if you call Potter first.” Pansy looked like a cat who got the cream as she began to put the first numbers into her phone. “He’s been making weird faces at you all hour and it’s starting to give me the urge to strangle him.” 

Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatic antics. “You are not allowed to strangle him, Pans.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Why not?”

“Because…”  _ Because he cried in my arms last night and I think we might possibly be building up a friendship and I really don’t want you to ruin that for me _ . “You’ll get killed in revenge and I still need you if I don’t want to get bored to death here.” 

“Sure. That’s why you don’t want him dead.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “But if you really don’t want me to strangle him, then you type in his number right now. Call. Him. Up.” She accentuated each word by hitting him over the head with their syllabus. 

“Alright, alright fine! I’ll call him.” He ripped the stack of paper out of her hands and put it down on his side of the desk. “But you are not getting that back until the end of class, menace.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, but Draco ignored her. Instead he followed the previously given explanation, painstakingly typed in the number behind  _ Potter, Harry _ and hit the green button that should depict a phone, but to him it looked more like a bracket on its side. Muggles were odd, he thought as he pressed the tiny square to his ear. “Pans, am I supposed to hear a weird beeping noise?”

“Yes, that means it’s ringing.”

“But it’s not ringing, it’s making a weird beeping noise. That’s not the same thing.”

“What’s not the same thing?” Draco startled and nearly dropped the phone when Potter’s voice suddenly came through the little speaker. Or at least he thought it was Potter’s voice. The apparatus had added all kinds of odd background noises to it. When he looked to the other side of the classroom he spotted Potter grinning at him though, phone held against his ear. “Surprised that this works, ey, Malfoy?”

“Surprised that muggles are absolute garbage at naming things. I have seen a phone before.”

“You have? Where? The museum for evil muggle inventions? Or do you mean one of those moving things that you hang above a baby’s crib?”

“Those are called a mobile, not a phone. And I’ll let you know I lived with a muggle for two months last summer. I’m not a complete nitwit.”

“Wow, stop the presses! Draco  _ Magic is better than anything muggle _ Malfoy lived with a  _ muggle _ ?” Harry pulled a completely exaggerated surprised face, open mouth, bulging eyes and hand to his chest included. Draco flipped him the bird together with his best  _ I am not impressed _ face. 

“Oh shut up, Potter. We both know I know I was very wrong to think that, and that I do not think that anymore.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to be hurt that Potter hadn’t noticed that. Or maybe he had, but he was just making a rather insensitive joke about it. Either way, Draco didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and thought it was time that Potter be a bit embarrassed this time. “Oh and by the way, Pansy says you have to stop, and I’m quoting her now, making weird faces at me, because you’re fueling her urge to strangle you with them.” 

Immediately Potter broke eye contact with him and turned his embarrassed gaze towards the desk in front of him. Draco chuckled. “Also, may I advise you to next time make weird faces at me when I’m actually looking? Because as opposed to you I actually pay attention in this class and I didn’t notice a single thing. Just a tip.”

“I wasn’t making weird faces at you.” Potter mumbled into his phone.

“As I said, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see them.”

“Well I didn’t! I just tried to catch your eye because these classes bore me to death, and…” Potter trailed off. He was still staring at his desk, but now it almost looked as if he was trying to burn a hole into it. 

“Yes, Potter. And…”

“And I wondered if you could make me one of those outline thingies again for our upcoming history of magic essay. I really need to raise my marks now so I have a buffer for the exams.” Potter finally tore his gaze away from the desk and looked at him again to give some emphasis to his next words. “I will never, ever in my whole life remember dates or names of any kind.” 

“Sure, I can make you one of those ‘outline thingies’, but I thought the most brilliant witch of our age was your best friend? Why don’t you ask Granger?”

Potter dropped his voice to a whisper, careful not to let his ginger friend hear any of his words. He wouldn’t, probably. As far as Draco could see Weasley was fast asleep on his desk. “Because during study sessions she and Ron are always…” Potter stopped talking all together now and mouthed the next word  _ kissing _ . And then, for whatever reason, Potter thought it was a good idea to illustrate that by sending him several air kisses. 

Draco didn’t know which one of them was more embarrassed when the professor clapped her hands and called out, “Alright, that’s a wrap! Now if Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy would stop their make out session I can all wish you a pleasant day, and please come to my office if you have any questions about this assignment  _ before _ you wreck your phones. Class dismissed!”

“Ah, make out sessions already? What did I miss?” Pansy’s eyes shone at the prospect of such gossip, and Draco elbowed her between the ribs to make her stop, without removing his head from the table. Now that he’d dropped it there, he didn’t plan on removing it any time soon. Possibly he’d just stay there forever. “I told you you weren’t unlovable.”

“Don’t say that. Giving people false hope is a shit thing to do.” He glared at her and reluctantly lifted his head so he could pack his bag. Potter was coming their way and he’d already had his daily dose of awkwardness, thank you very much. “Besides, he only wanted some help with a history of magic exam. He’s just like Blaise.” 

_ Using people for their skills but as soon as he’s needed himself he fucks off to Merlin knows where and never answers any of your letters _ . It went unsaid, but Pansy knew that’s what he meant. Her face fell, and they both left the classroom in a more than terrible mood.

* * *

 

_ I’m sorry about being weird in class this morning, but could you still help me? Harry _

“Pansy, how does texting work?” Draco had just managed to open his  _ one new message _ , but now he was lost. He also didn’t really understand why Potter had texted him when they literally shared a bedroom, but he wasn’t going to question it. So far he’d always managed to have a reasonably good time with Potter every time they did something together. Well, apart from the awful kissing incident that morning. The constant weight on his chest, composed out of guilt and self-hatred, seemed to lessen around the Gryffindor. He figured it had something to do with forgiveness. If Potter could forgive him enough to study with him, then maybe he could forgive himself enough to allow himself to have a good time. 

“Why do you want to know?” Pansy asked absentmindedly as she applied a purple coat on her nails. “I’m not going to text you anytime soon. It would ruin my nail polish.” 

“Well I do happen to know a few people apart from you,  _ Pansy _ .”

“You meant Millicent? I just got an owl from her. She dropped her phone in the toilet, and won’t get a new one until at least next weeks. Why do you think I’m growing my nails out at the moment?”

“I really don’t want to know.” He squeezed his eyes shut but it was pointless against the image Pansy had planted in his head. Cursed woman. “But I meant Potter. He texted me and I don’t know how to reply. And if you tell me any more details about your sex life I will permanently curse your nails to be five inches long, understood?”

“Yeah yeah.” Pansy rolled her eyes, but Draco was pleased to see a tiny hint of fear in her eyes at the idea. “Now why the bloody fuck did Potter text you? And  _ what _ the bloody fuck did he text you?” 

Unceremoniously she stole his phone and rummaged through it while ignoring his protests. “Ah! He wants to  _ study _ with you.” Pansy wiggled her eyebrows. “How romantic. I’ll say you’ll meet him in front of the library in half an hour, that gives you just enough time to grab some candles and food for a romantic study dinner.” 

“No you are not. Candles in a library are a terrible idea.” Draco’s eyes widened at such an awful suggestion. Candles in a library! It was as if Pansy had turned into a Gryffindor all of the sudden. “What if we cause a fire?”

“Hmm, of course that’s the first thing you say.” Pansy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him. “I knew you wouldn’t protest the romantic study date part.”

“It’s not romantic! Or a date!” He stole his phone back and put it on standby before she did any real damage. Like he was ever going to send Potter ‘ _ of course I can help you, I’m always ready for you. Let’s say a romantic library dinner at seven tonight?’ _ “You’re an absolute disaster, Pans. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you have no one else.” Pansy singsonged as she charmed her nails dry. “And because you’re too much of a coward to ask Potter out yourself.”

“Pansy, I’m going to say this nicely one more time. Stop. Saying. That. I’m a death eater with more than two brain cells, he’s a bloody hero with no planning skills. That’s the only reason we hang out, okay?”  _ Apart from yesterday when he literally cried on my shoulder _ . But Potter probably would have cried on anyone’s shoulder in that moment. That was how such feelings of overwhelming grief worked. It had nothing to do with him at all. “Every time you suggest it, you’re only making me more aware that it will never happen. Not with anyone, and definitely not with him. And that hurts, so just give up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that Draco, but I’ll stop bringing it up if it upsets you this much.” Pansy’s gaze almost became motherly, for which Draco was grateful. He still scowled at her though, he had a reputation to uphold. “ Just as long as you know that I still think you’re very wrong. You’re a wonderful person and Potter would be bloody lucky to have you.”

“Pans, that’s just… Not true. I wake up screaming every night, I dissociate, I can barely stomach meals, sometimes I barely have the energy to get out of bed, I’m never cheerful and oh, yeah, I’m a literal death eater who tried to kill him.” Draco plucked at the duvet instead of looking at Pansy. He knew it hurt her to hear him talk like this, but she had to understand things from his perspective. Literally every aspect of him ought to be on the no-no list of every sane bachelor in the country. If it wasn’t, then said bachelor was of no interest to him. He didn’t want to date someone just as crazy as his late aunt Bella. “I am hardly the definition of a wonderful person.”

“Well I still think you’re wrong. But I’ll drop it for now.” Pansy pulled his hands away from the duvet and pried his phone loose. “Now, what about I text Potter  _ I can, what about we meet in front of the library at eight?  _ Gives me just enough time to wipe that mopey look off your face.”

“Alright.” He flopped on his back and watched Pansy send the text. When the girl was done, she dumped herself on top of him and loosened up her gossip tongue. Her animated way of talking always made for a great distraction. And when Potter texted back  _ alright great! See you there in an hour _ his bad mood had lifted so far there was even a tiny smile playing around his lips. 

Once it was time to head down to the library though, nerves had taken over his entire being. Pansy even had to stop him and take him through some breathing exercises lest he got an actual panic attack. He was ashamed of himself for letting things get that far, but luckily Pansy didn’t make fun of him for it. Next time he would prefer it to just bump into Potter again instead of having over an hour to psych himself out. 

Not that he had any reason to panic. As a pureblood, he could dream every part of history of magic back and forth, including names dates and fun obscure facts. He was going to be fine. However, he did absolutely not feel fine. The only reason his stomach wasn’t throwing a hissy fit was because he’d taken potions for it on Pansy’s advice. But of course he still found plenty of other things to worry about. Mostly he freaked out about the possibility that Potter would greet him with a hand shake, because what if he couldn’t keep his hands steady? And because he stressed about that, his hands  _ were _ shaking by the time he met Potter. Luckily, all he got was an awkward nod before they headed inside. 

_ Thank Merlin for small mercies _ he thought as they found a spot at an empty table. Several Hufflepuffs one table down left immediately after seeing him, disgust clearly written on their faces. Draco just sighed and rolled his eyes when that happened, as he always did. Potter opened his mouth though, clearly ready to say something about it, but Draco cut him off. “Leave it. Potter. It just gives us more peace and quiet to work in.” 

Which indeed it did. The only problem was that Draco hadn’t brought any work for himself, so when he was done making Potter’s outline he had nothing left to do. He couldn’t leave lest Potter had any questions, and he couldn’t ask Potter for some parchment so he could make a head start of his athrimacy calculations. He didn’t want to admit that after a full hour of stressing, he’d still managed to barge in unprepared like an idiot. 

In the end he just hid behind an obscure ancient book on the history of dragon myths, while sneaking in the occasional glance at Potter. The frown was back, the one that had made him feel too many things when he’d found Potter asleep in the library. After ten minutes the messy bun on top of Potter’s head, which he’d seen first after the unfortunate shower incident, had also made a comeback. The only new thing was that Potter was constantly tapping his fingers or chewing his bottom lip, which should annoy Draco but it really didn’t. 

Luckily he did still chew on the edge of his quill, which was still as disgusting as ever and posed for a nice way to detox when that stupid frown began bugging Draco again. And Potter wore slightly too wide school robes, which also aided a lot. After about half an hour, Draco even managed to get himself lost in the book in front of him. The weird origin stories of dragon myths were slightly more interesting than the boring brown cover led on. He even got himself so infested that it took ages before he noticed Potter was looking at him, his essay halfway done and long forgotten. 

He raised an eyebrow. “See something interesting, Potter?” 

“I do actually.” Potter flashed him a tiny smile and Draco died a little inside. “How do you stay so focussed on one book? One subject? I can usually only read half a paragraph before my mind goes off someplace else.” 

“Well that’s easy. Hours and hours of practice.” Potter raised his eyebrows in question, something which Draco understood. He very much doubted Potter knew anything about the way rich purebloods raised their children. “When you’re born in a family like mine, you get your first tutor at four. That slowly builds up until you’re eleven, you have eight different tutors for nine different subjects and the only free afternoon you get in a week is sunday after ‘formal brunch with your parents’, and whoever came up with that garbage idea can go stuff his head in a toilet for all I care.”

Potter snorted so loudly after that, that madam Pince actually came to shush them, and when she saw which two students had made the noise she actually kicked them out. Even Potter didn’t dare protest under the librarian’s glare.

“Well that was a first.” Draco noted as he closed the dragon book and put it under his arm. Normally having a member of staff whisper-yell at him set off his anxiety like a lit match set a fire in a haystack, but Potter’s very entertained face kept him from going over that edge. “I’ve never been thrown out of the library before.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Probably my fault. I might have broken into the place a bit too often in previous years and now Pince kinda hates me.” Potter still snickered as he packed up his things. “Thanks again for the outline by the way. If you hadn’t helped I probably would’ve nicked Hermione’s essay again and she always asks me to do terrible favours in return. When I stole her charms notes she made me reorganize all of her books by alphabetical order and subject. I think she’s doing it because now that she’s with Ron she doesn’t have time to do it herself.”

“That… Is not something I ever want to think about.” He shuddered at the thought. This new habit of people to talk about sex wasn’t something he approved off. There was enough traumatic material in his head as it was. “But then again, you shouldn’t steal someone’s notes. Just copy them, then no one will ever know you took them.”

“You are such a Slytherin.” Potter shook his head, an almost fond smile playing around his lips. “I think I’m going to fly for a bit before I finish this.” He held up the half finished essay. “You could come if you like.”

Draco immediately shook his head, as Vince’s horrid death scream ringed in his ears. It did every time he thought of brooms or fire. “I don’t fly anymore.”

Potter didn’t ask him why, for which Draco was grateful. He did not want to be reminded of that moment any more than necessary. “See you tomorrow in class, right?”

“Yeah, right.” Draco nodded and Potter headed out. Despite the slightly rocky middle and end, the night had been quite alright. One of the best ones he’d had since the return of Voldemort in fourth year. It almost felt like Potter was really his friend. 


	7. Chapter 7

Bring me some hope

By wandering into my mind

Something to hold onto

Morning, or day, or night

-The Anchor, Bastille

 

Depression was… Difficult to pin down, Draco found. It was an unpleasant mix of things ranging from nightmares to a deep rooted feeling of self hate. Usually the latter was the worst, but today the biggest manifestation of his illness came in the shape of lethargy. Complete and utter lethargy.

Just after his release from Azkaban his body had been bruised, battered and barely capable of getting out of bed. He’d told himself that was why he hadn’t been out and about much during those early weeks. But now, with his muscle mass and endurance slowly returning, that was no longer a valid excuse. Fact was, he was fully capable of getting out of bed now, with the physical strength and energy all there, and yet he didn’t. He’d watched eleven turn into twelve turn into one and then two in the afternoon, and in all that time he’d yawned once and that was it.

He felt like garbage for it, because _bloody fuck Draco, you’ve been given a second chance and you’re just spending it in bed doing nothing useful whatsoever?_

He wasn’t even sure if he _had_ a depression. He hadn’t been diagnosed. Maybe he was just sad because one of his best friends had died, another had tried to kill himself and two others were so traumatized by the magical world he doubted they’d ever set foot in it again. Maybe he just stayed put because it meant he didn’t have to avoid jinxes, hexes, howlers and evil eyes from twelve year olds. Maybe he was just being a coward, or a ‘big baby’ as Pansy sometimes called him. Maybe he was just pissed off because Pansy was off to Hogsmeade with Astoria and he couldn’t come because everyone still hated him and it wouldn't be safe.

But probably he was just being lazy.

When the hour neared three he noticed he’d been absentmindedly scratching his dark mark for a while now. He usually avoided touching the ugly thing because some distant part of himself still feared it would summon the Dark Lord. Looking at it wasn’t a hobby of his either, but now…

The unbranded skin was aggressively red and glowed a bit, but it didn’t look the same it had when a summoning made the thing swell. It wasn’t evenly red, more a pattern of bright stripes with some darker red spots in between. That made his arm even more hideous, but like this it didn’t scare him. At least now it was his own choice to mark his skin like that, albeit not a conscious one.

He trailed a long, still too thin finger over the edges of the burn as he recalled the day it had been made. Or at least, the bits and pieces he remembered. It turned out his brain was excellent at blocking out trauma, meaning that his body had stayed put and his mouth closed while his sanity fucked off to someplace else as soon as the metal touched his skin. The lack of screaming had impressed the Dark Lord, and he had felt so proud because of it. The _well done_ nod he'd gotten afterwards from his father had filled his chest with pride. Just like he’d been so very proud of the mark. It meant he was following his family’s orders, making sure they didn’t fall any further out of the Dark Lord’s graces. He felt as if he was single handedly reinstating the power his father had lost. One glare from him and Fenrir hadn’t dared to do so much as _look_ at his mother for weeks.

It had been a very, _very_ powerful feeling.

And now the very same thing made him want to bury his head under his pillow and just… Stop. Stop everything.

Stop thinking.

Stop breathing.

Stop feeling the pain.

If only he had the mental energy for it. But since he didn’t, he stayed put, scratching his arm further open and watching the hours tick by, hoping that time would take his lethargy away. Or his laziness and self pity. He was almost convinced those were one and the same now.

“Hey, hey stop doing that.” His eyes sprang open when a firm hand gripped his wrist and pulled it away from his arm so he could no longer scratch at the scars. Potter was standing over him, his expression matching his voice; shocked, worried and stern. “Stop hurting yourself. It's not right.”

Draco had to come from very far when the words entered his ears. He had sunken into his own thoughts way deeper than he thought he would, and now everything went way too slow and fast all it once. It made him a bit dizzy. Things didn’t improve when his brain caught up either. He didn’t want to be seen at his lowest point by anyone, not even by Pansy and definitely not by Potter. “Mark’s not right either.”

“Well bully for Mark, but we’re talking about you now.” It took awhile before Draco got what Potter was on about, and when it clicked he could do nothing apart from look incredibly disappointed. There had never been a worse moment for a pun.

“Not funny Potter.”

“Sorry. But I meant it when I said you shouldn’t do that.” Potter wrapped both hands over his mark now and squeezed. It stopped the broken skin from burning as much, which he didn’t like at all. It also covered the insides of Potter’s hands with blood. That sight alone was enough to make his breath come quicker in the worst possible way. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself.”

“It’s just scratching Potter. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He tried to pull his arm away, but Potter stubbornly held onto it. Stupid Gryffindor. “Why are you annoying me here instead of annoying others in Hogsmeade anyway?”

“Others mostly annoy me whenever I leave the eighth year hallway.” Potter shrugged. “Why aren’t you there? I saw Parkinson going out this morning.”

“Potter, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but everyone hates me. I might as well off myself now and save the trouble of walking all the way to Hogsmeade so others can do it.” Potter looked properly horrified by that. Draco wanted him to leave more than ever because of it. He finally managed to sit up and twisted his wrist out of Potter's grip. “And don't give me that look. I don't want your pity. For the past year every person with the wrong lineage lived in constant fear of being murdered because of people like me. You might not think I deserve it, but if anyone here does it's me.”

That shut Potter up. Draco couldn't bear to watch the realisation dawn on the Gryffindor that he was right, so he turned away, swinging his legs over the other end of the bed. It was kind of ironic, that Potter had to be the one to get him up. He would have preferred Dean or Seamus. At least they would leave him the hell alone if he asked them to.

“Don't-, don't kill yourself.” The unexpected sincerity in Potter's voice made him look around. Potter was a lot closer now, sitting on the middle of his bed, almost close enough for them to be touching. His green eyes were wide open, reminding Draco a bit of a deer caught in wandlight. Potter was shocked that Draco would say something like that. “Don’t ever feel like you deserve it because you don't. You’ve done so much for me already just by being here. And you can’t stop doing that because I can’t fight this on my own.”

Draco didn't know where this was all coming from, he just knew he wanted it to fuck off. This was way too close for him, way too real. Pansy sometimes saw through his mask, saying the things he needed to hear the most even when he didn't want her to. That was a role reserved for a best friend on special occasions. Potter wasn't allowed to suddenly barge in and make him feel like a goddamned open book. It wasn't fair.

“You’d never fight on your own.” He choked out eventually in a faint attempt to steer things away from himself. “You have half an army of friends.”

“But you are the only one of them who knows how this feels. That night in the forest… It felt like you understood. I _know_ you understand, alright? And I need that because how the fuck am I supposed to explain how I feel when I don't even understand it myself?” Potter was starting to look a bit frantic, which calmed Draco down a bit. Now he wasn't the only one losing control. “So if you really are going to pick the most inconvenient moment ever to stop being a narcissistic prick then bloody well stay here because I need you.”

“You are the only person who could end a speech with calling me a narcissistic prick and get away with it.” Draco’s smile was faint and he didn’t know where it was coming from. It was there though. As one of the many things that hung between them while they sat in silence. Potter looked taken aback by his own words, as if he hadn’t meant to say them. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Potter’s mouth just ran like that as soon as he heard the word suicide. But now was not the time for useless self doubt like that. He knew he wasn’t alone anymore, wasn’t the only one feeling this. That meant he couldn’t just focus on himself now. “Thank you.”

“Just stay here, alright?” Potter squeezed his wounded arm. Draco hadn’t even noticed the Gryffindor had taken hold of it again. His warm hands felt almost nice now. “And I didn’t just say that so I can fix you up.”

Draco turned a fierce red, embarrassed that he hadn’t heard Potter’s intentions right the first time. Potter didn’t see though. One squeeze later he was up and about, gathering things from his trunk Draco guessed hadn’t been used since the Gryffindor had been on the run. The materials did not stir up any nasty memories in Potter though, or at least not as far as Draco could see. The Gryffindor just smiled faintly before he uncorked a vial of essence of dittany.

“Here you go. It might sting a bit.” Potter put a couple drops on the scratches and gently rubbed it into his skin, even though you weren’t even supposed to do that with dittany. Not that Draco was going to complain. It felt as if more than just his gashes healed as Potter’s tanned hands moved over his skin. His Dark Mark. This was the first time he’d let anyone touch it. “So, all done, Draco.”

Draco’s breathing froze. _Draco_. Potter had called him Draco. He might just never breathe again.

“Is that alright?” Potter asked tentatively, and Draco knew he meant it in more ways than one.

“Yes.” Draco trailed a finger over the closed skin. The Mark felt smoother than it had before. “This will never be alright. But the rest… It’s better now.” He doubted for a beat, before getting over himself. “ _Harry_.”

Harry smiled. “Great.”

* * *

 

Though Harry calling him Draco had felt like a miracle, it hadn't really caused one. The next day Draco still started his day like absolute crap. He'd been having one of those nightmares that was basically just snapshots of all kinds of awful feelings in strange settings that made his stress levels rocket through the roof and his breathing come in short pants. That feeling of panic didn't leave him during breakfast and classes, and by the time lunch rolled around he couldn't bear it anymore. As soon as he'd shook Pansy off, he headed for the nearest bathroom and sank down on the cold stone floor of a stall. His hands were shaking, but that was nothing compared to the jumps and loops his mind went through, racing from one thought to the other until he felt like he was going mad. It didn't take long before his stomach joined the party, revolting at nearly every shaky shallow breath he took. He hated it. Hated throwing up for no reason, hated not having control of his own body, hated being useless for hours at a time when it happened. After all the loss of control in the two years previous, the last thing he needed right now was a body with a mind if his own.

The only lucky part about all of it, was that his mind almost immediately grinded to a halt when he threw up. At least then some of the spinning stopped. It still felt awful though, especially because he always gripped the toilet seat so hard that holding his hair out of the way wasn't an option. When all was done and out of his system, his father's disappointed voice usually had a lot to say about how he’d failed to control himself. Sometimes that resulted in even more retching.

“Draco? Draco are you okay?” Just before he could throw up there was a knock on the stall door. He couldn't answer, couldn’t even enjoy the use of his first name. His body felt way too shit for that. Immediately after Harry threw the door open and gasped. Then, without thinking twice about it, he sank down next to him and held his hair back. “Djesus, Draco. Are you alright? Anything I should do?”

He couldn't answer. In fact he was barely aware that Potter had asked him a question at all. He was pretty out of it. “Yeah of course you can’t answer that. Stupid of me. Just surrender to it alright? If you fight it you’ll only feel more shit.” Harry continued to ramble on about many things, at one point quidditch was even mentioned, but Draco didn’t register it. He was glad for the company though, especially when all was out and done and his body just completely collapsed. Harry only barely managed to catch him before he fell backwards. The last thing he noticed when his consciousness slipped away, was a cleaning charm cast on his mouth and hair, and two strong arms lifting him off the floor. Then everything went black.


	8. Chapter 8

“Fucking  arse, that’s what you are Draco. Scaring me like that.” Someone, probably Pansy, kicked hard against his bed and then cursed because the metal frame wasn’t exactly forgiving. “Bloody idiot.”

“I don’t think he can hear you.” That was Harry, sounding just as scared as he should be, faced with an overprotective pissed-off Pansy. “He’s been out of it for half an hour now, I think? Madam Pomfrey said he should be fine. His temperature was raised though, so maybe he’s caught the stomach flu.”

“I very much doubt that.” Pansy shoved Draco's legs none too gently aside and sat down on the bed. Harry made a small noise of protest, but Draco suspected a glare from Pansy shut him up. He rather enjoyed guessing what was happening just based on sounds. It gave him something to think about other than the fact that he’d passed out in Harry's arms. That was important if he didn’t want to spike his anxiety again. “He’s just a very sensitive eater. Not that he’s very picky about food, but he has trouble keeping it down when his anxiety flares up. Like the reverse version of a nervous eater.”

“Oh. That’s… Uncomfortable.” Potter was probably chewing his bottom lip now. “I should get going, I think. I only stayed because I didn’t want him to wake up alone, but now that you’re here...”

“He’s still going to be alone if you leave now. I just wanted to check if he wasn’t dead, I, unlike some people have better things to do than stare at Draco all day.” Queue the smug smile. Draco almost snickered, until he remembered that he was pretending to be asleep. “I should have been in divination ten minutes ago. I’m not allowing him to spoil my grades.”

Suddenly the extra weight on the bed was gone, and so was Draco’s attempt to keep his demons at bay. He knew Pansy didn’t give a rat’s arse about divination, and skipped the class more often than not. The only reason she’d bailed on him was so that he could spend more time with Harry, as if she was still trying to get them together. It was incredibly frustrating that the woman couldn’t just see that that was never going to work. He didn’t even love himself, how the bloody fuck was anyone else supposed to love him then?

“Well, I guess this is as good a reason as any to skip potions for the day.” The chair next to the bed creaked, though Draco didn’t know why as Harry hadn’t gotten up. He wasn’t really trying to figure out why either. He was just trying to keep his breathing even as his mind started racing again. Sometimes he just really wished he could go back to fourth year. The war had permanently altered the way his brain worked, he thought, and now he just couldn’t bloody turn it off. Couldn’t stop freaking out, couldn’t stop overthinking, couldn’t stop acting like a useless idiot. It was so frustrating he sometimes just wanted to do something to himself in the hope that that would make it stop. The way he had yesterday. The only reason he hadn't tried that more often was because Pansy would spot it right away. She’d already smelled something on him the day before and that night she’d clung to him more than usual. He couldn’t hurt her more than he already had. It just wouldn’t be fair. 

“Hey, hey it’s alright.” Draco almost startled when Harry grabbed his hand, scared that his faked sleeping had been found out. As usual, he needn’t have worried. “It’s just a nightmare, ey? It’s not real. It’s not happening. You’re just in bed, very safe and very far away from danger.” 

Harry slowly rubbed circles over the back of his hands until Draco’s breathing had evened out. He felt bloody pathetic for working himself up so much it had looked like he was having a nightmare, but he didn’t object to the mini massage. It was probably the closest to actual intimacy with another wizard he’d ever get. “Your hands are really soft, you know? I always figured they would be, but it’s even better than I thought. Though I can’t say it feels like silk, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt silk.”

_ Bloody heathen _ were the only two coherent words Draco’s brain could string together as those rough fingers slid over his skin. It felt so loving and intimate, but Draco tried not to actually read anything into it. He’d only overthink things and set his anxiety off again. Instead, he let out a deep breath, and for once he just attempted to enjoy it and live in the moment. 

“You know I never properly thanked you, for what you did in the forest. I was really far gone when you came there, close to doing some very stupid things just because I was so… So lost in myself. But then I saw you and you pulled me back and then I could see things in the right perspective again. I wouldn’t have…” Potter trailed off, his voice now incredibly soft. “I think you saved my life back there.”

Draco froze. His body had already been still, but now his mind was motionless to. That was a Big Thing ™.  That was… That was… He’d had no idea that Harry felt that awful sometimes. Maybe he should have, with the way Harry had opened up to him the day before but somehow it had just never clicked. Harry surely didn’t look the part the way Draco did, with his toned muscles, healthy complexion and lively green eyes. But then maybe Draco had only really started noticing him from up close after that night in the forest. Or maybe he’d been spending too much time in his own head to notice. Whatever the reason, he just hadn’t expected it at all, but in some strange way it still made sense. Three months worth of trials, the press haunting him, survivor's guilt, his two best friends seeking solace in each other’s arms, unintentionally not noticing how their other best friend slipped… It all made an awful kind of sense. 

Slowly, Draco pulled an eye open and peeked through his lashes. Harry was fighting tears. It was probably the first time he’d said it out loud. The fact that sometimes he felt like stepping out of life. It was a big thing, and most of all a scary thing to say. Admitting that there was really something wrong with yourself, and that you didn’t think it could ever be fixed. Draco doubted for a moment, and then squeezed Harry's hand. 

“Hey.” His voice was still shit from vomiting earlier. Harry startled when he heard his voice, which Draco felt kind of bad about. Not so bad that he stopped talking though. “It’s okay. I know it hurts, but this is not something you can't overcome. You just have to give it time, and not be an idiot and try to do it all on your own.” 

Harry let out a weak huff. “Thanks for the advice.” 

“You're very welcome.” He offered Harry a weak smile and another squeeze in his hand. It was quite terrifying to not have a single bloody clue as to what he was doing. What was happening between them in that moment. But he wasn't going to stop now. Pansy wasn't the only one who felt guilty about what had happened with Theo, and he wasn't about to fail Harry too. If he didn't do anything after Harry's confession and something happened to him, he'd never forgive himself. But how was he supposed to offer his help in such a way that the stubborn Gryffindor would accept it? Draco himself had barely accepted it from Pansy at the time, and they had been in their nappies together. “I felt that way too, you know? After I got out of Azkaban. Strangely enough not while I was in it. Thinking inside that place is pretty much impossible. But afterwards, when I got out, I just didn't want to get better. I didn't want to spend so much time in pain, haunted by the war. I just wanted it to stop right there in that moment, all of it. I still feel like that sometimes.” 

“Oh.” Harry clearly didn't know what to do with that information, but Draco wasn't finished yet. 

“I never acted on it though, because I had Pansy and Millicent breathing down my neck. Still have Pansy now, and at first I thought it was bloody awful, but I know without her I might not be here.” Draco took a deep breath, hoping that he wouldn't make a complete fool out of himself while trying to make his point. “I don't think you ever talked to him, but a really close friend of mine, Theo, tried to kill himself over the summer. Pansy was scared I'd do the same, which is why when she took me home she made me promise that as soon as I felt like that I'd go to her. Day or night, even if she was in the bloody bath, as long as I'd come to her. Same goes for nightmares or bad days. That's what saved me.” 

“And… and you're saying you'd do that for me?” 

_ And I was going to suggest you ask the same of Weasley and Granger _ . But he was never ever in his whole life saying that now. “Yes. If you'd be open to that.” 

It clearly took effort to answer that, and somehow Draco had the idea that it wasn't because it was him, an ex-death eater, offering his help, but because it meant Harry really had to admit that he still had a problem, and that he couldn't cope with it on his own. “I would be.” 

Draco squeezed his hand again and smiled. “Good.” 

“What did you mean when you said Pansy took you home?” It was clear Potter mostly asked it because he wanted to change the subject, which Draco didn't mind that at all. “I thought she didn't get along with her mother? At least that's what was all over the papers. Mrs Weasley couldn't talk about anything else for a week.”  

“She doesn't, she took me to her new home. She and Millicent basically moved in together when she ran away from home. And so did I, a month later. That's what I meant when I said I'd lived with a muggle. Millie is a half blood so her mother is muggle. She runs a bakery in a London suburb.” 

“You-, you really lived with a muggle?” Harry's eyebrows shot through the roof before he realised how rude that was. “Sorry, I'm just having a bit of a hard time seeing that.”

“I know, imagine being me and actually having to live through it.” He chuckled, but then grew serious again. “But in all honesty, Mrs Bulstrode is quite possibly the kindest woman I ever met, and after three years of war bullshit I'd gotten the message that something had to change. And that something was probably me.” 

Harry suddenly snorted then. “Have you sat in a car? Seen a TV? Oh, do you know muggle music? David Bowie? Queen?” 

Potter's enthusiasm made him laugh, and the rest of the afternoon he obediently answered all of Potter’s ever crazier questions. Had he worn eyeliner? Did he know what it was? And cooking? Toasters! What about toasters?

Draco probably would have never caught any sleep anymore if it hadn't been for madam Pomfrey sending Harry away when dinner time came around. And when he was gone, he had to admit that maybe Pansy had been right for a little bit. Not that anyone would ever date him, but maybe he and Harry really could be good friends. 

He really hoped they could be.

* * *

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” Harry climbed on his bed and closed the curtains, a habit he’d gotten ever since their heart to heart in the hospital wing. Draco couldn’t say he minded, though it stung a bit that it only happened when Weasley’s curtains were closed after Granger had joined him. That happened barely twice a week, so despite the hurt he still tried to enjoy the rare moments.

“Uhm, I’m not sure yet. My mum’s still not out of hospital, so I think I might try to get a place to sleep there for the holidays. I’m mad enough for it.” He shrugged. Christmas was only two weeks away, something he did not like to think about. It reminded him too much of the horrors from the year before, and the people who couldn’t celebrate it with him. “And if I can’t stay there, I’ll probably stay with Millicent again.”

“I didn’t know your mother was still in the hospital. Is she alright?”

“Oh she’s fine. Her magic had been keeping her going the last months of the war, and when she realised she was finally safe from the Dark Lord’s harm it gave out and she collapsed. Recovering magical core strength always takes ages, which is why she’s still in there. She’ll be out in a few months though.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” Harry averted his eyes and began plucking at him blankets. He looked a lot more nervous than usual, and it frustrated Draco that he didn’t know why. There were too many things about Harry that he still had to learn, even after all these years. “Not much fun to spend christmas in a hospital though.”

Draco shrugged. “Theo is still there, and I’ll probably see Neville and his gran, so that could be interesting. Getting yelled at by an eighty year old instead of firsties for a change. And anything’s better than last year’s holidays.”

“I agree.”Harry nodded, still incredibly tense. “What about New Year’s? Because I thought maybe you could join me, since the Weasley’s-”

“I don’t think the Weasley’s would want me there. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Draco interrupted Harry because he knew the Gryffindor was nothing but kind, and he would hate to have Harry ask him over only to have the Weasley’s flat out refuse. Which is what the family should do, of course. There was way too much history between them to move that fast, and Draco hadn’t even apologized to all of them yet. “What happened between our families… It needs more time to heal. I can’t possibly ask them to welcome me now.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Harry looked as if he’d burned himself, and Draco flinched just seeing his face. “I just-, Never mind. You’re right anyway. So, what are you doing for New Year’s? Will you still be with your mother?”

The rest of that afternoon was spent with many more awkward, semi-friendly questions like that, and all Draco could think about was that something like that would never have happened between Harry and Ron. It had been foolish of him to think they could be close friends. They had bonded over shared trauma because Harry did not have anyone else, and because of that and Draco’s study skills they were friends. But their level of intimacy would never outgrow that stage. Draco would just have to accept that and enjoy the moments and things he did have. It was yet more practice on how to lower his expectations, and accept that life was just like this for him now. Relatively safe, but not particularly happy and always plagued by a mental state that just would not improve. 

But that was still better than what he could have ever hoped for.


	9. Chapter 9

The night before vacation began Draco was allowed to use the floo to visit his mother in St. Mungo’s.  Madam Pomfrey had arranged that for ‘health reasons’. He suspected it was because Pansy had told her about what had happened on the train ride last time. The risk of getting egged or cursed probably counted as health reasons, but it still felt a bit like cheating. 

He tried not to think about that as he travelled to the hospital. Which wasn’t really all that challenging, because he had not seen his mother in many months. Despite his depression he was genuinely excited to see her. Soon enough he was spat out of a hearth directly onto the floor of the Janus Thickey ward. Not that his mother’s illness really fitted there, but there was no special department for her kind of magical damage, and it wasn’t like his mother didn’t have enough trauma’s to deal with. At least amidst the really crazy she could feel a bit sane herself. 

When he entered her room she was still asleep, so he climbed in bed with her under the threatening glare of her nurse. She had a private suite, though Draco would have still joined her if half the world was watching. He had not fully realised how much he’d missed his mum until he saw her again. There was so much familiarity, safety and calmth in the simple act of touching her, of being in her arms. He fully relaxed for what felt like the first time in years, and mere seconds later he was asleep, not even realising that he’d woken his mother up anyway. 

That was the first night he slept without nightmares or fear in two and a half years.

* * *

 

“Good morning darling.” Someone was caressing his hair, but he tried to ignore that. He’d had such a nice dream. It had been almost like a memory. A moment in time twelve years ago when a storm had darkened the sky and Lucius had been far away from home. As soon as lightning began to strike his mum had taken him up to one of the guest bedrooms and they had spent the night there, together. It had been their own cosy little secret, hidden from his father with his strict unbending rules.  _ My son, the only heir of the Malfoy family, will not be an unbehaved wuss, and definitely not a nancy.  _

“Hmph.” Draco mumbled as he fought to stay in the dream world. Everything had been so much nicer and easier in it. 

“There is tea.” Five short clipped nails trailed a path over his skull, making him shiver. It was the only gentle trick that worked to wake him up. It was only then that Draco realized part of his dream was true; His mother really was there. 

“Tea?”

His mother let out a light chuckle. “Tea always did do wonders to get you up. I’m afraid it’s just hospital tea though.” 

“It’s your tea. Tea with you. That can’t be bad.” Draco dragged himself up a bit until he could rest his head on his mother’s shoulder. “I slept well. I never sleep well. How did you sleep?”

“Light but good. I have missed seeing you.” His mother sat up and Draco reluctantly followed her example after letting out a long whining noise. Narcissa smiled at that and brushed the hair out of his face, looking at him properly for the first time in months. “Why do you not sleep well?”

“I have nightmares. And roommates. Gryffindor roommates.” They exchanged a smile at that, but Draco knew he owed his mother more than that. “They are all very rash. Though Neville is only like that when it comes to plants. And Thomas is quiet almost all the time, he just sketches a lot. Weasley and Finnigan usually exhaust themselves so much they collapse right into bed when the time comes.” He paused for a moment. On one hand he didn’t want to say anything about Harry lest his mother would discover how he felt, but on the other hand he had never been able to keep secrets from her. This wouldn’t really be a secret though, just a short version of the truth. “I suppose maybe my roommates don’t have that much to do with my sleep schedule after all.” 

“That is not surprising. You have always been prone to nightmares.” His mother looked at him, and he got the sense her eyes could see right through him. As if maybe she could see his recent discovery; that he was gay. He really hoped she didn’t. He didn’t want to be yet another thing his mother had to adjust to in these rough times. “I’ll walk through some sleep meditation routines with you while you are here. They helped me more than I expected.”

Draco sighed in relief. No mentions of Harry. He would be okay if there were no mentions of Harry. Because if the Gryffindor was mentioned, Draco was quite sure his mother would be able to read his blush right away.

Lucky for Draco his mother slept a lot, and Theo’s extensive therapy programme didn’t leave him much free time, so there weren’t many chances of Harry getting mentioned. Draco mostly spent his time reading.  _ Christmas carols _ by Charles Dickens, and many cheesy novels Pansy had stuffed in his trunk. She’d wanted to come with him at first, but Draco had forbidden it. Millicent needed her more than he did, and it wasn’t like a hospital was a very unsafe place. 

Apart from reading, Draco also spend a lot of time thinking. That was usually never a good thing, as it often sent him into a downwards spiral leading to heavy depressive episodes and even nastier nightmares. Now though, things weren’t so bad, because when he was alone he had Harry to think about. It was nothing too deep, just his face, that crease in his forehead on the rare occasion he really focussed on something, and his green eyes. It was a lot more fun than analysing all the wrong choices he’d made, and coming up with implausible reasons why that didn’t make him a bad person. 

The actual Christmas days themselves were quite fun. Neville stopped by on both days sans grandmother, who was under the weather due to the cold wet winter. Apparently the Gryffindor had a habit of reading Christmas stories to his parents, and after a bit of encouragement Draco, Theo and even Narcissa had been allowed to listen as well. 

“You have a beautiful story telling voice.” His mother told Neville at the end of the night. She was suppressing a yawn as she did. Despite her long hours of sleep she was still always tired. “It’s enchanting to listen to.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Neville blushed, as if he could not quite believe he was worthy of a compliment, and closed his book. His father took it from his lap and started leafing through the pages. Neville carefully waited until he’d selected another story, and then began to read again. As he did, Draco suddenly got the urge to find a pencil and paper and sketch the moment. He hadn’t done anything of the sorts in ages, but maybe if he could produce something decent he’d have something to give the other guy for Christmas. He hadn’t done any Christmas shopping, too afraid for hateful curses getting thrown his way if he showed his face anywhere, and too embarrassed to ask Pansy for money to buy anything anyway. 

Drawing he could do though, once he’d summoned the material from somewhere. It took a couple tries, but the final result didn’t even look half bad. Just as Neville finished up his last story, he scribbled a note under it. 

_ Thank you for such a simple Christmas celebration. I had forgotten that happy moments don’t always have to be complicated.  _

_ Merry Christmas, Draco _

He handed it over without looking, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that he still had to escort his mother back to her room. That made it pretty much impossible to flee before his small gift was opened. Neville’s response wasn’t at all as terrible as he’d imagined though. He simply put a hand over his wrist to make him look up, and said a simple, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And Merry Christmas.”  _ You already said that you idiot _ . he cursed himself. But Neville just smiled, looked down at the sketch, and smiled again. 

“You know I think Harry would appreciate something like this. He’s always been a sucker for personalized gifts.” 

Draco froze and cast a quick glance in the direction of his mother. She didn’t look like she’d heard anything, but he couldn’t be sure. He focussed back on Neville again, determined to quickly change the subject. “As someone who used to have the same level of wealth I understand that. It’s too easy to throw money at some expensive broom and be done with it. It’s why I think it’s cute Thomas is always sketching Finnigan. At least he actually looks at people.”

Neville, always a sucker for talking about romance, smiled and nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty sweet. Though I can assure you some of Dean’s sketches are very close to porn, as I’ve recently discovered.” The Gryffindor chuckled when he saw Draco’s mild disgust, which he recognized as being prudishness instead of homophobia. Draco would never be able to talk so freely about sex as most  people around him seemed to do. “I think you see people too Draco, and I don’t mean in an objective way. This drawing says enough. You’ve really changed.” Neville shot him another warm grin and squeezed his arm for a bit, which happened to be his left underarm. “Merry Christmas Draco. And in case I won’t see you before then, a very happy new year.”

Now, despite his nerves, Draco was smiling a bit too. If Neville Longbottom wished him such a sincere Happy new year, then maybe next year really would be better than the past months. “Happy new year to you too, Neville.”

* * *

 

The drawing for Harry ended up being made in the middle of the night, after much nerve wrecking doubt. It was actually more a Christmas card, really, with a hand-sketched front. The picture was rather simple, showing Harry wrapped in thick winter clothing near the Great Lake, laughing about something another figure had said. At first that figure had been Draco himself, but he'd chickened out last minute and changed them into Luna Lovegood. 

_ The first of many warm winters.  _

That was his chosen caption. On the inside he wrote  _ Harry, I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year. With the way things have changed over the past months it is now clear to me that wishing such a thing is no longer foolish hope but instead a destination that can be reached when the journey is given the right amount of time and energy. Knowing you now I would even say it was wrong of me to think my hope was foolish. You never do things halfway. You have always done the right thing and because of that I can sit here and write this. And when I'm done I can send it, spend several hours questioning most of my life decisions and after the holidays I can insult you again because that is the only way I have to let my nervous energy out. Being grateful is a very odd feeling, and I would like to limit it's time to shine to Christmas eve if you don't mind. And if you do mind then bully for you, this card is all you are getting until next Christmas.  _

_ See you in January,  _

_ Draco Malfoy _

* * *

 

Harry’s reply came two days later, on boxing day. As expected nerves had been eating Draco’s insides ever since he’d send the Christmas card, something his mother had noticed despite all his many efforts to hide it. The conflict between his upbringing and family duty versus his sexual orientation and the need to be honest with his mother tore him apart those days. He did not know which side would win. Didn’t know which side he wanted to win. He just knew it hurt to not be able to be honest with his mother, but the idea of losing her over his unfulfillable desires was even worse. 

The relief was therefore not great when Harry’s card arrived. It didn’t solve his problem after all. He still had a choice to make between two options, and neither seemed to be a good one. This was a road he’d walked before in a more extreme fashion and he had chosen wrong that time. Had chosen family over morals and that had bit him in the arse so hard he’d almost died. Did that mean he had to pick different this time? Risk losing his mother? Risk getting hate for being queer on top of being a death eater? None of his options were safe. They were both less dangerous than before but the situation felt all too familiar. 

Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t read Harry’s letter. Anything to take his mind off things. He’d already had three silent panic attacks since he’d come to terms with his options. He could use something to make him smile. 

_ Dear Draco, _

_ I am sorry my reply is so late, Christmas at the Weasleys is quite hectic, especially with both Fred, George and Charlie present here. It took more time than I wanted before I could find a quiet place to write. Now that I can write though, I would like to thank you for your card. I did not know you could sketch like that. You really ought to show me how that process works sometimes. Dean only ever let’s Seamus near his sketchbook when he’s still working on something.  _

_ As for the rest of your card, after letting Hermione translate your posh talk I can say I’m happy I could help make certainty out of hope, as you so elegantly put it. It wasn’t all me though, and I’d hate it if anyone fully credits me. I had a literal army to help me. But yes, it is nice to finally have a safe Christmas. _

_ Talking about armies by the way, do you know how many Weasley’s there are? Because I certainly didn’t. I knew Ron’s brothers and Ginny of course, but they also have twenty five cousins. Not all of them are actually called Weasley but most of them have ginger hair and to celebrate the first peaceful Christmas Mrs. Weasley had invited all of their extended family. A Chudley Cannons fan shop is less orange that the party tent in the Burrow’s back garden on Christmas day. And the Great Hall during a feast makes less noise, I actually feared going deaf. Sometimes I almost envied your peace and quiet in the hospital, though of course I do not know if it is actually peaceful and quiet there as you didn’t say. I hope it is, you looked like you could use some good nights of sleep last time I saw you. I dare say will look exactly like that when we meet again, because with this many guests here there seems to be no room for mundane things such as sleep.  _

_ In some ways that is nice, because it means I am never alone. I think you understand me when I say I don’t want to be alone with my own thoughts. Ron and Hermione don’t understand, they insist on taking quiet walks and having serious conversations about war stuff to cope with everything. That might work for them but for me it still feels too fresh. Do you feel the same way sometimes? Or is that just me?  _

_ Anyhow, to end on a less depressing note, I too wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year (sssssssht about the technical detail that it is no longer Christmas now. Just imagine it is). See you in february because I feel like I need several weeks of comatose sleep before I can function again. You can sit at my bedside though (-; _

_ Harry  _

Draco was torn again after finishing the letter, now between smiling like a loon or allowing his anxiety to focus on the bad parts. He had wrongly only credited Harry when talking about the war, and he had been painfully reminded of his fainting episode. On the other hand, Harry had trusted him enough to talk about his mental health issues, and the letter had sounded as if written to a friend, especially the last bit. That, together with his favourite Christmas song coming onto the radio tipped the dial in favour of a smile. A small, but for him very significant smile. 

His problems may not have been solved yet, but maybe he could forget about them long enough to really have a happy new year’s eve now.

* * *

 

“I can see you’re happy about something.” Draco’s smile fled from his face as soon as he heard his mother’s words. He still didn’t trust himself to talk about Harry without giving away the deeper feelings he had for the Gryffindor. The stupid, useless deeper feelings that would never come true but which he felt anyway because he was an idiot. 

“Not about anything particular.” He shrugged, turning his face away from his mother to cover the lie. “Just thinking about how this is our first peaceful Christmas.”

“I was thinking the same thing. This is the first Christmas without my parents or Lucius. The first time I don’t have to play hostess for an endless stream of visitors, half of whom I’ve never even liked.” His mother joined him on the sofa in her room and squeezed his hand, a chuckle in her voice. “That’s not what you were thinking about though. I can see. Not that you have to tell me about it. Just as long as it makes you happy.”

He could do nothing but keep his eyes firmly stuck on his knees and hope. Hope that his mother knew at least in part what was making him happy, and that she was really okay with it. That wasn’t how his life worked though, so the hope was a lot fainter that he wanted it to be. 

“I want to make a tradition of this.” His mum put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Celebrating Christmas with just us. Just loved family instead of having prestigious gala’s.”

“That sounds nice.” His smile slowly crept back onto his face. The nerves were still there, but they were more manageable. It was easier to imagine his mother approving of his sexuality if she so readily kicked out an ancient pureblood tradition. Not that she had much of a choice, they didn’t have the resources to throw a gala. His mum seemed genuinely happy about being relieved from those parties though. Maybe there was more to his mother than he knew about. Parts long kept hidden by stupid stuffy pureblood traditions. 

He was quite excited to find out.

Maybe the next year really would be a happy one.


	10. Chapter 10

_ There was a knife in his hand. A sharp, clean knife that glistened in the lamplight of the bathroom.  _

_ “Give it to me, Draco. You made me feel this way. You stole all the attention. I was almost ready to tell someone about what my father did to me, but then of course you had to barge in with that sodding mark on your arm and ruin everything. You’re so selfish Draco. And I don’t want to live in a world full of selfish people. You, my father, Voldemort, Fenrir. You just take, take take. Well, now it’s my turn to do that.” _

_ Draco wanted to scream.  _ No! No I’m not like them. I don’t want you to do this. If you can’t live in a world with me then I have to go. Please don’t do this.  _ But that’s not what he said. His voice was no longer in his own control. “Only cowards take their own lives.”  _

_ He handed the knife over, gave it to Theo and his outstretched hand. The scene suddenly changed, the bathroom making place for the large dining room in the manor where Voldemort used to speak to his followers. Voldemort wasn’t there though. Instead it was Draco himself, sitting at the head of the table. His fingers were his own, only with a mild shine added to the skin. Draco could barely spot the difference between Voldemort’s snake like form and his own skinny body. Theo’s trembling form lay in front of him on the table. Next to him Nott senior chuckled as his son squirmed. “Well go on then.” It was his own voice speaking, the exact tone he’d always used to taunt people. “Take it, you coward. No one needs you. No one wants you. Your own father only ever saw you as a thing, and now that you’re broken, it’s time to toss you out. Take. It.”  _

_ The scene changed again, until he was on top of the table himself, shaking with the need to just do what he was told as the real Voldemort now spoke. “Come on, Draco. You always were a coward. No ending but this would fit you better. It just takes one knife to end all your problems.” _

_ “Now take it.” Voldemort suddenly changed to Fenrir, and the dining room was now his childhood bedroom, exactly as he remembered it from when he was five. There was even a toy dragon on the foot of the bed, getting squashed by Fenrir’s knees. “Take it before I take you.”  _

“Draco!”  _ There was something very cold and very wet in his face, and it took him awhile to notice it was water. It didn’t take him any time at all to freeze in fear as he saw a shape at the edge of his bed. That had to be Fenrir, or Voldemort, or- _

“You alright, mate?” 

Ronald bloody Weasley. Draco didn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to see that freckled face, he couldn’t even be bothered to be embarrassed about the relief flooding him. He couldn’t answer his question though. Never before had he been this out of breath in bed. He was pretty sure he was hyperventilating. 

“I can take it from here, Ron. Thank you for the water.”

“No need to thank me, mate. Always fun to splash a glass of water in Malfoy’s face.” The freckled face disappeared, and was replaced by a messy mob of hair.

“I need you to breathe for me, Draco. Can you do that?” Draco didn’t respond, but Harry began talking again anyway. “It was a nightmare, Draco. It wasn’t real. You’re here now, and safe. And all you have to do is breathe. Inhale and exhale over and over again, alright?” 

Draco later had to note that Pansy’s calm and collected _in, hold,_ _and out_ were a lot more effective, but eventually he managed to calm down a bit. “Sorry.” He blew a large gulp of air out through his mouth, oxygen slowly returning to his body. This was _not_ how he’d imagined seeing Harry for the first time since the holidays. “Forgot my silencing charms, I think.”

“Yeah, the lack of silencing charms really was the problem tonight. Not you crying and screaming in terror because of what sounded like a truly awful nightmare.” Harry tried to sound sarcastic, but his voice was too shaky to really pull it off. “I thought Pansy was exaggerating when she said it, but I do think your nightmares are worse than mine. And mine are bloody awful.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and lifted his duvet.

“Wha- what are you doing Potter?”

“You’re not sleeping alone after all that.” Was the only explanation Harry gave him before climbing under the blankets and pulling him into his arms. “It’s what friends do for each other.”

“Oh.” Draco was still way too shaky to comprehend what that meant, but he liked the sound of it. 

“Now please don’t ever make sounds like that again. I think my heart might break if I have to hear that one more time.” Harry summoned his pillow and settled in besides him, looking fully at home in Draco’s bed. It was a sight Draco had never expected to see. In the weakness that came after intense nightmares he couldn’t fight the feelings that sight brought up. Harry really was his friend. He was kind in a way no one had ever been to him, in a way he didn’t deserve but still needed. Unable to think of anything else, he simply turned his back to Harry and tensed his shoulders up as he cried. But even that wouldn’t shield him from the Gryffindor, because Harry simply rolled him back and held him. “It’s okay. I’m here, just like you were there for me. Some days just hurt more than others. It’s alright to need people sometimes.” 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and gripped at Harry like he was the only thing still keeping him from going insane. He was falling so hard for this impossibly kind idiot it scared the bloody daylight out of him. But right in that moment he felt pretty comfortable living in the dark.

* * *

 

Lucky for Draco, there was no awkward waking up the next morning, only a hasty one. They had an excursion planned for muggle studies, for which they had to be outside at six thirty already because Professor Anezka insisted on going there by bus. It meant he only saw Harry as he hastily searched for his trousers. After that Pansy dragged him away for a talk and Harry joined his other friends. Draco let Pansy guide the way once they got off the bus. He was too distracted to do anything by himself for the first few hours.

“What is this? A shop just for brassieres?” Pansy suddenly came to an abrupt halt in front of a small store window. Draco walked back a couple steps and looked in as well. It indeed appeared to be a shop solely meant for women’s undergarments, with panties and garter belts displayed just like that on the mannequins in the store window. And that in the middle of a busy street! He could count at least five young children around him. Those muggles really were indecent people. “It looks nice. I want to go in.”

“Alright.” Draco shot her an odd look, but if she wanted this then he wouldn't stop her. He'd just wait outside until she was done. He could use a break from all this confusing muggle stuff anyway. 

“Are you coming?” Pansy held out her hand for him.

“No!” He took several steps back and nearly collided with a turkish lady and her baby stroller. His voice had come out a little harsh, but honestly, he was a man. He had absolutely no business in a women's lingerie store. “I don't even think I'm allowed in there, Pansy. I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes I can see that, but that doesn't mean you can't go in. I mean what if you were my boyfriend and you wanted to buy me something fun for in the bedroom?” He pulled a disgusted face at the mere thought of that, and Pansy laughed. “Circe’s tits, Draco. How could I ever have thought you were straight? You didn't even look that horrified when Blaise threw up over your shoes in fifth year. Just get in you big gay baby.” 

“Don’t say that so loudly! And stop making a scene.” Draco glared at her for being so careless. If word came out about his sexuality he would be seriously fucked. 

Pansy shrugged him off though. “There’s no one here anyway. Most of our year mates are still stuck in the McDonald’s. And you’ll only risk meeting them more if you stay out here, and then you have to explain why you didn’t go inside. Now  _ that _ would be suspicious.” 

“Fine.” He grumbled and followed her into the store with lead in his feet. Sometimes he hated it that all his friends were in Slytherin. Well, except Harry of course but he’d been stolen by Granger, who claimed she couldn’t deal with Weasley all on her own. The ginger got too hyped when faced with muggle things. 

“Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you with anything?” A store employee immediately approached Pansy with the first genuine smile Draco had seen in the shopping area all day. At least that was an improvement. 

“Well, I've been wearing the same decent boring brassieres my mom always wears, and I'm actually rather done with those.” The shop lady nodded as Pansy’s eyes went to a lingerie set with garter belts and an all-lace see through bra. Draco turned away, hoping to stop even more unpleasant images to flood his brain. If he hadn’t been sure he was gay before, he bloody well knew it now. He did  _ not _ want to be there.

“You look about as uncomfortable as I feel.” Draco turned around again, only to be faced with the last person he wanted to meet while he was awkwardly standing in a muggle lingerie store.

“Harry. What are you doing here?”

“Hermione dragged me with her. She wants to buy something fancy for Ron,” Draco pulled an even more disgusted face than before, and Harry basically copied the expression. “And she didn’t want to go in alone.”

“Because going in with you will definitely make things less awkward. And of course you have an impeccable fashion sense.” Harry laughed when Draco let his eyes travel over his ratty jeans and worn out sweater. “Always proving to be the most brilliant witch of our year, Granger.”

“Oh do shut up. She doesn’t have to be an expert in every field.” Harry shoved him, but it was an amicable shove. Way less hard than what Pansy always did. That woman basically broke his ribs every time her elbow came near him. “What are you doing here, actually? Looking for something fancy for ya  _ girlfriend _ ?” 

Harry wiggled his eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be a suggestive manner, but it made it look like his forehead was having a seizure. Draco’s face immediately morphed into an expression of fear mixed with puzzlement and mild disgust. “Nooooo. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

“What? Have something against experimenting in the bedroom?”

“No, I have something against women in my bedroom.” He blurted out before realising the implications of that confession. His face was quickly lit on fire and he turned his gaze away to… “Are those crotchless panties? What the hell kind of use do those have? Doesn’t that forgo the entire idea behind underwear?”

“I am pretty much the last person to know the answer to that.” Harry replied slowly after several minutes of awkward silence. Draco could bloody well hit himself with a hammer. How could he have suddenly blurted out that he was gay? What if Harry didn’t want to talk with him anymore now? Study with him? Did he think it was disgusting?  _ Was _ it disgusting? After all so many people thought it was, so maybe there was some truth to it.

So many questions crashed into his mind, it took awhile before he realized he was being called for by Pansy. He basically ran towards the dressing rooms as soon as he noticed, not looking back at Harry once. He thought he might throw up if he did. 

“Merlin, Draco. You look like you’ve seen a necromancer.” Pansy said as she pulled him into her changing booth when she saw no one was watching them. She was wearing a purple, lacy bra, but Draco couldn’t focus on it. Couldn’t focus on anything, really. “Hey, hey it’s alright. Just breathe okay? Breathe. In, hold, and out. In, hold and out. It’s alright, you’re safe, I’m here.”

Draco closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the plywood walls of the stall until his panic attack eased off. It took longer than usual, because this environment was strange but mostly because he knew the man who was now quite possibly disgusted by him was only a few feet away. When his breathing evened out, Pansy pulled him into a hug and didn’t let go anymore until she felt him relax in her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She released him from the hug but kept a firm hold on his hands, which she squeezed to make him look at her. “Care to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing. I-, I just-,” he had to take a deep breath and forced himself to stay somewhat calm as he spoke. “I might have come out to Harry. About being gay. He’s here with Granger and I said it and then he didn’t say anything back, but I didn’t really give him the chance to say anything back either because I started rambling about crotchless panties. Crotchless panties! Out of all things! And after that there was this silence and  _ then _ he didn’t say anything and I don’t know what that means or if he even understood what I meant because I didn’t really literally say it but I think he understood anyway and what if he’s not okay with it? What if he’s disgusted and doesn’t-”

“Draco.” Pansy put a hand over his mouth and forcefully made him shut up. “If Potter thinks you’re disgusting because you’re gay then I will personally break every bone in his body and poke out his eyeballs. But honestly? I don’t think the boy wonder is very straight himself. And besides, his ex girlfriend was all over Luna Lovegood last night in the library, and he’s still good friends with her so I really doubt he’s a homophobe. But again, if he is, you’ll have his eyeballs in a jar by tomorrow, and that’s a promise.”

“But I don’t want his eyeballs in a jar.” He sputtered weakly after Pansy finally removed her hand. “I think they look better still attached to his face.”

“You never know if you never try.” Pansy shrugged. “But I’ll allow them to stay in his head until he proves himself to be a homophobe, alright?” He nodded. “Good. Now, you big drama queen, what do you think of this bra?”

“I don’t know.” His voice still sounded a bit soft and forced from his recent panic attack. “I’m gay.”

Pansy dropped her face in her hands and sighed. “Well you’re just no help to me at all today now, are you? I think I finally know where the term  _ gay disaster _ comes from.” She looked up again and started to snicker. “Or gay mess. You look like a gay mess too. Now, I know this sight doesn’t get you going but can you at least say if this bra is aesthetically pleasing? You don’t have to find it sexy to say that.”

Draco wasn’t sure why, but those words drew a sigh of relief from him. He finally straightened his back, and took a proper look at the bra, trying to treat it the same way he did socks or robes. “Alright then. I think your bra is very aesthetically pleasing.”

Pansy beamed at him and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, babe. Was that so hard?” Draco just glared at her as a response, which earned him an eyeroll. They ended up buying several bras in the store, though Draco didn’t venture out of the changing booth until Pansy had assured him trice that Harry and Granger had gone.

When the end of the shopping trip came in sight, he made sure to board the muggle bus as one of the last students. He then proceeded to sit by a window, so Pansy could shield him from the aisle and possible stares from Harry. He was convinced his stupid confession from before had ruined the thing between them. Harry and he had shared a bed, hugged and cried on each other’s shoulders for Merlin’s sake! The man had to be repulsed by that, thinking Draco had only helped him to get close to him just like all of his stupid female fans always trying to slip him love potions. 

Only Draco hadn’t slipped him a love potion, Draco had made him believe that he was a changed man and a proper friend, and now that just had to look like one big farce to get his own piece of Harry. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ had  _ changed enough to be worthy of Harry’s friendship. Harry had offered it himself of course, but that was before he knew everything about him. Harry hadn’t known about his attraction to men. And hadn’t he been interested in Harry in more than a friendly way before they ever became friends? Hadn’t he started this entire thing with ulterior motives? Maybe he was just like Blaise, using people for his own gain and then fucking  _ not replying at fucking all _ to any of his best friend’s letters. 

On top of all that he couldn’t help but be scared that Harry would talk. That his dirty secret would come out and the frequent howlers would come back. The hatred, the death treats, the weird cursed objects. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that, especially with the possibility that Harry would agree with all of it.

“Draco, Draco come on. You’re in your head again, making things look much bloody worse than they are.” Pansy grabbed his hand and rubbed circles into it. Draco didn’t want to look at her. Didn’t want to see her compassion or hear her speech about how it was okay to be gay. It  _ wasn’t _ , otherwise Harry would have said something. It wasn’t, otherwise his parents wouldn’t have banged on about him marrying a girl his entire life. It wasn’t, otherwise his father wouldn’t have addressed some of his more extravagant business partners as _ filthy queers _ when they failed to make a deal. It wasn’t, because if it was Pansy would be an open and proud lesbian, and she wouldn’t be clinging to him, never denying the rumours that they were a couple. 

He pulled his hand away from her grasp and stared stoically out of the window for the rest of the trip. He hated it. Hated being gay, hated the itchy feeling of his skin, as if he was actually gross. Hated not knowing if his mother would ever be okay  with this. Hated that it didn't matter much anyway, because no one would ever love him like that. Hated the voices in his head of all the people he’d once loved, telling him that what he was was wrong. But most of all, he hated it that Harry hadn’t said anything.

* * *

 

When the bus stopped in front of the Hogwarts doors he got out as one of the first and headed for the Slytherin common room. It was the only place he could think of where Harry couldn’t come. Not that he was running away from him, but as long as he didn’t have to see the confirmation that their friendship was over he could pretend a little bit that it still existed. 

He sought out Astoria, and talked about her life and parents and sisters for the rest of the night. It was like his thoughts and words went from tar to freely flowing water. With Astoria he could talk about pureblood traditions, estate plans and arranged marriage crap for the first time in ages. He  _ knew _ these things. He hadn’t realized it before, but ever since Azkaban he’d had to carefully weigh each word, constantly trying his best not to sound offensive, even if that meant he could almost solely talk about things he barely understood. It was an incredible relief to not have to do that anymore now, if only for a few hours. Not that he suddenly started throwing around slurs, that was something he’d never do anymore. Not now that the actual beliefs in his heart had changed, but he could talk more freely like this. 

It was an even greater relief to just be welcomed into a common room. To sit on a couch and not have people glare at him, making him feel incredibly unwanted. No, he just blended in. Because no one knew he was gay. And if they did know, then the last place where he could feel at home would be gone too. 

He slept restless and light that night, knowing that if he wanted to be his true self, he’d lose Harry. He’d lose his house, possibly his mother too, and any kind of respect from the general public he still held. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to know. 

The following days he got up earlier than usual for his jogging rounds, and when he was done he sat near the edge of the forest until he almost had to run to make it to class on time. Potter tried to call and text him several times so two days after the incident he threw his phone into the lake.  _ Out of sight, out of mind. _

Pansy knew what he was doing of course and clearly didn’t approve, but she couldn’t stop him because he’d shut her out too. It was simple enough, he just didn’t respond or listen to any of her rants, and soon enough there was just an icy silence between them. Draco felt a bit guilty for doing that, but he needed his time to figure out what the bloody fuck he was supposed to do now.  _ He _ , not what Pansy wanted him to do. Because Pansy could tell him Harry wasn’t a homophobe, that being gay wasn’t wrong and that his insecurities were just in his head, but if he couldn’t figure that out for himself then he was never going to believe it. He was never again going to stand for beliefs which he deep down didn’t actually buy. 

That, and he was just terrified of believing her and then finding out she was wrong. 

He missed Harry a lot during those days. He didn’t allow his eyes to wander and find the Gryffindor, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget those green eyes even if he never saw them up close again. It felt selfish, but he missed Harry even more when the young man started hanging out with Granger and Weasley more. Of course Draco hadn’t really expected Harry to sulk and feel miserable the way he did himself, but there seemed to be no missing going on at all. He’d been part of his life as a study buddy and friend for months but now that Draco had turned out to be gay and therefore unfitting to hang out with, he was just as easily replaced with Harry’s real friends. After all it couldn’t be that hard to make an outline, and Weasley and Granger now knew just as much about Harry’s mental health problems as Draco did. Maybe they even knew more. 

His nightmares worsened too, more often than not showing him empty ballrooms and dusty old beds as a symbol for his fear of ending up isolated. Those scenes usually bled into more obscure things as the night went on, ranging from Theo’s suicide to his own to him just running through the fast halls of the manor, only finding death and hatred in each room he met. His marks took a nosedive now that he no longer dared to show his face in the library, and each bad grade he got was like a punch in the face, which in all honesty was exactly what he deserved. 

He felt like he'd throw up every time he caught sight of Harry or played with the idea of talking to him. Almost every breakfast was accompanied by those awful letters he never opened. The idea that Harry might agree with their content now that he knew he'd been studying with a bloody queer was terrible. And he still wasn't sure himself how he felt about being gay. He still didn't want it, but since that wasn't his choice to make he had to figure out what it meant for him. Would it mean he'd play pretend and still try to marry a woman? Would it mean he’d accept it and only date muggles who'd never understand him? Would he come out to the magical world and be hated even more, not to mention stay alone forever? 

He didn't like any of the choices he had. Over all he just didn't like his life at all in those weeks, or himself. He particularly hated himself, for creating such a mess in the first place. For not keeping his mouth shut, and for not being bloody normal for once. Maybe he could let things go back to the way they used to be if he made a decision between coming out or keeping up the pretence, but he just couldn’t make that choice. He couldn’t think about it without panicking. Not without the fear of making the wrong choice numbing his thoughts. 

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place and no matter where he looked he couldn’t find a way out. 

Maybe there was no way out.

* * *

 

Harry was laughing with his friends on the other side of the hall. For the first time in days Draco had allowed his eyes to drift over there and watch him. Pansy wasn’t there to judge him for it, she’d been completely avoiding him since the day before. The sight made him feel like absolute crap. For the first time in weeks, he felt awful enough not to touch his breakfast at all. Instead he just poked it around a bit, until Finnegan made the water jug catch on fire and laughter exploded once again at the Gryffindor table. That was when he decided to torture himself with all this no longer, and he left the great hall. Better to wait in the alcove near the defence classroom than to do so in the great hall. 

His legs felt shaky as he climbed the stairs, something be blamed on his low blood sugar levels. He even had to sit down for a bit on the top of the stairs, but he didn’t question it. Skipping breakfast had made him faint before, it wasn’t that big a deal. Once the classroom was reached and class commenced, he still felt more queazy than he should. The lecture, which was just as boring as usual, didn’t reach his ears. Pansy’s glares and annoyed huffs didn’t either. When she got pissed off at him for not eating, something she could deduct from his shaky hands, he didn’t react at all. He’d gotten a major headache after the first five minutes, and that made it difficult to focus. 

He knew headaches like that though, he didn’t try to go to the hospital wing for it. Not until he was in his third class of the day and his vision began to blur. That could never be a good sign, and his skipped breakfast didn't explain it either. 

By this time Pansy wasn’t there to help him reach madam Pomfrey, as she had divination and he’d just had ancient runes. It was a fucking pity, because stairs were… not easy to climb with shaky legs, blurry vision and two professional beaters hammering on the inside of his skull. His legs gave out once he’d finally reached the hallway to the hospital wing. By this time he didn’t know if it was his dodgy illness or the fear for his own life causing him to shake. All he knew that whatever was happening to him, it wasn’t good. This was no normal headache.

“Draco?” Someone pulled his eyelids open but his eyes rolled back so he still couldn’t see who it was. “Draco can you hear me?” Instead of answering, he shivered almost violently and briefly stopped breathing. “Merlin, Draco what did you do?” 

His eyelid was pulled up again, but it was still just as pointless as the first time. When two arms came up around his knees and back he was shivering so much it should surprise him that he could be lifted up at all. It didn’t though. All that filled his mind those last moments before he lost consciousness was  _ I don’t want to die fighting with the only two friends I have here _ . Then everything went blank.


	11. Chapter 11

You were the light that is blinding me

You're the anchor that I tie to my brain

'Cause when it feels like I'm lost at sea

You're the song that I sing again and again

-The Anchor, Bastille

 

There was a beeping noise very close to his ear, and Draco didn’t like it one bit. It was high pitched, mechanic and just not loud enough for him to be sure that he wasn’t imagining it. He tried to lift his hand and slap in the direction of the noise. Maybe it was one of Millicents bloody awful muggle alarm clocks. Those things usually shut up if you threw them hard enough at the nearest wall.

He wasn’t met with the hard plastic body of an alarm clock though. Instead his hand met the soft fleshy body of a quite warm person. He opened his eyes. Green eyes looked right back at him. Or at least one green eye did, the other was covered by his own hideously thin fingers. Quickly he pulled his hand away.

 _Sorry_. But it was just a mouthed word. His throat was so dry, drinking desert sand would have moisturized it. He coughed, and immediately Harry helped him sit up and put a glass of water against his lips. He only drank it once his head was securely resting against Harry’s chest, because as usual the room had started spinning as soon as he got up. While he drank, images of the past day began to flood his brain. Harry laughing with his friends, ditching his breakfast, the weak feeling in his limbs, then the headache, the shivering and the blurred vision. And then Harry carrying him to the bloody hospital wing.

Again.

He groaned, and accidentally dribbled a rather large amount of water onto Harry’s lap. Before he could curse himself for it though, Harry chuckled. “You know most people find that swallowing makes drinking a lot easier.”

“Oh fuck off.” He mumbled despite his embarrassment. However much he liked the sound of Harry laughing on most days, today he might as well have dropped a hammer on his head. He still hadn’t lost his headache. “What’s that bloody annoying beeping noise?”

Harry chuckled again, and threaded his hand through Draco’s hair, massaging his skull. That almost made up for the fact that he was still making noise, but not quite. He’d really never had such a terrible headache before. “That’s your heart, Draco.”

“Well turn it off.”

“I can’t, you’ll die.”

He groaned again, fell back into his pillows and closed his eyes. The beeping sped up, and seemed to grow louder, hammering on his skull. “Don’t care. Turn it off.”

“I am doing no such thing. I would never kill one of my friends.” Harry suddenly sounded very serious, and Draco didn’t care for that at all. People shouldn’t be worried about him, he wasn’t dying. The only moment in his life when he had truly wished someone would worry about him, was when he was failing his task to kill Dumbledore. Oh, what he would have done if someone, anyone, would have taken notice of the fact that he and his parents were staring death in the face. But though he didn’t doubt many teachers had noticed him withering away in fear like a plant deprived of sun and water, none of them had done anything about it. Well, apart from Severus, but he hadn't helped in the way Draco had wished he would. That moment was behind him now though, he’d somehow managed not to die, and now people shouldn’t worry about him anymore.

“Don’t.” He rolled onto his stomach, away from Harry. He didn’t really register that his comment would make no sense unless Harry was a legilimens. His headache was too intense. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Draco?” Harry sounded bloody considerate. Draco buried his face in his pillow and didn’t answer. “I can’t not do what you don’t want me to do if you don’t tell me what it is, Draco.” A hand came up and squeezed his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He just wanted to crawl into the pillow and make the headache stop. It would have probably been better if he hadn’t though, because his shrugging made Harry’s patience snap and his voice grew louder. “Don’t touch you? Don’t call you my friend? Draco if you keep shutting me out it’s going to be pretty fucking hard for me to figure out what you want from me. I’m not a bloody mind reader.”

Draco gripped the edges of his pillow, his breathing turning shaky. There were so many things in his head, so many things to think and talk about, but he just wasn’t up to it. He wanted to deal with things but his brain just wasn’t up to it. Everything was becoming such a blur and in all of that there was only one thing very clear to him. It was also the only thing he could still say before he passed out again. “Don’t leave.”

* * *

 

The next time Draco woke up his headache was gone, but so was Harry. It was just him, a bed that didn’t turn out to be in the hospital wing, and that bloody beeping noise. He tried to look around for the emergency button which had to be somewhere, but he couldn’t find it. There were three other beds on his ward, all empty except for one, which contained a older gentleman, a dwarf, with a feeding tube and a blue glowing puff of smoke above his head. A waxing moon shone silver light into the room, which was just not bright enough to be able to tell the time from clock above the door.

Draco found this very frustrating and still kept staring at the clock, hoping against reason that the moon would somehow become brighter. There were also windows looking out into the hallway, or what Draco guessed was the hallway, but all the lights were out. All those things put together gave the room such a strange, eerie feeling that Draco kept pinching himself as he stared at the clock. Maybe this was all some weird kind of fever dream, or the opposite of that, a hypothermia dream. He was feeling rather cold, anyway.

The slow beating of his heart mixed with the slow ticking of the just-not-visible clock created what had to be the world’s most frustrating harmony ever. Especially because they kept falling out of rhythm. Draco thought extensively about all of these things, mapping out the room like he was preparing for an important exam, taking in every detail. Anything to not have to think about what a mess he’d made of things.

Again.

Pushing Pansy away, not giving Harry a chance to voice his response about his coming out, immediately running back to his heritage instead of working on bettering himself. Of course he’d all done it for a reason, but they had all been kinda shit reasons.

“What kind of stupid hospital bed doesn’t have an emergency button or a bloody blanket?” He muttered to himself as a shiver rippled through him. “I feel crap enough as it is, I don’t want bloody pneumonia to boot.”

“Hou je bek, idioot.” The dwarf in the other bed snapped at him, his puffy cloud briefly turning yellow, before going back to blue. Draco had no idea what the man had said, but he thought he’d gotten the message and stopped talking to himself. That wouldn’t do his sanity any good anyway.

“Mr. Malfoy.” Draco nearly broke his neck when turning towards the sudden voice. The room was flooded with light as a nurse entered through the now finally not dark and deserted hallway. “Your vitals showed you were awake. So, how are we feeling tonight?”

“I’m not royal plural.” Draco snapped. He didn’t like the way the nurse looked at him, as if he was a fragile autumn leave that could crumble at the lightest touch. “And I’m very cold.”

“Well someone’s cranky.” The nurse gave him a wide smile that didn’t reach her tired eyes. Draco thought she was probably a lot younger than she looked. “Anything else? Clammy hands? A headache?”

Draco shook his head. “No ma’am. I’m fine.”

“Oh but you’re not, that’s why you’re in the hospital.” She shot back with a dash of wit. “Do you know why you’re in the hospital?”

“No.” He shook his head, and that was oddly enough the first moment he actually started to think about _why_ he was in the hospital. Well, obviously because he’d bloody well fainted into Harry’s arms for the second time in just a few months, but why? Just because he’d skipped breakfast?

“Oh, I see I should not have asked that question. But now that I have I might as well give you some answers. Though…” The nurse trailed off, studying his face for a bit before she spoke again. “Technically speaking, I am not allowed to say. Knowing the aurors though, they’ll only show up at the end of the day with no respect for a patient’s needs whatsoever.”

“Aurors?” He immediately sat up, his nerves spiked and the annoying beeping noise almost doubling in speed. “Why do I have to see aurors?”

“Not because you did anything wrong, Mr. Malfoy. Don’t worry.” The nurse gave him a reassuring squeeze in his knee. “But you were poisoned, I’m afraid. And it was a nasty one too. It blocked your intestine wall and basically made you starve. The stuff they found is made for diet pills, I believe. Only because your BMI was already so low it worked a lot faster than intended, which is why there were still a lot of traces of the stuff in your body. If all goes according to plan, the magical footprint should lead to the producer of the poison, so they’ll catch whoever did this.”

Draco nodded, though in all honesty he’d stopped listening when the nurse had started to talk about something other than aurors. He did not want to see them. By Merlin, he did not want to see them. He didn’t care who poisoned him either, especially if that meant he didn’t have to see them. He'd deserved it anyway, with the way he'd been acting.

To say interrogations in Azkaban had been rough was an understatement. The aurors hadn’t exactly done anything that really crossed any lines as far as he knew, but they had _not_ been kind. No one had been kind there, his father included. That broken shell of a man had only been able to ramble on about family honour and needing to be worthy of his own name. Lines had been spoken involving his grandparents that gave Draco the idea that he hadn’t known his father at all. That he didn’t know his own family, even though at many points in his life he had been on the verge of dying for them.

All of that came rushing back to him at the mentioning of aurors, and it choked up his chest until he felt like his ribs might cave in or get pushed out of his chest by the sheer force of the memories. The nurse was clearly startled by his response, and called in a colleague. It was pretty clear that he wasn’t on the mental ward, because neither one of them knew what to do with his major panic attack. They kept trying to calm him down with water and by checking if there was something wrong with his actual chest. Their hands on him only made his feel more constricted, more like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

He needed Pansy or Harry, but in his shortness of breath all the nurses understood from his mumblings was something with a P and an A, which they figured meant pain. He wasn’t sure what happened after that. He only remembered things turning hazy, then dark, then _gone_.

* * *

 

When he came to he could finally read the bloody clock above the door. A quarter past three. Afternoon. There was something alarming about that knowledge, but he wasn’t sure what. His thoughts were very slow, as if he’d taken sleeping draught only an hour before. It was a caging feeling when he knew there was so much for him to think about.

“You know, most people arrange for a visit by calling the front desk, not by admitting themselves as a patient.” His head rolled sideways and Theo came into view. Wonderful, witty Theo who had survived so much more than anyone should ever be forced to live through. He was smiling too, a genuine smile with a touch of worry that Draco hadn’t seen in ages. His mental health had clearly improved since Christmas.

“Being normal is your thing, Theo. Not mine.” His voice was raspy, but not nearly as much as when he’d woken up to Harry sitting at his bedside. The thought of the Gryffindor spiked his heart rate, but for now Theo and his ever so brilliant smile were more important. He reached an arm out and pulled his friend into a hug. When Theo tried to hold back, being ever so careful with other people, Draco pinched him until the embrace was a proper hug. “I missed you. This you.”

“I missed this me too.” Theo squeezed him, and went to sit on the bed to make their position less awkward. “Don’t miss seeing you half dead in a hospital bed though. Done that twice too many times in my life.”

“I’m sorry for being so unoriginal.” _I’ll try to aim for a coffin next time_. But since Theo was still on the suicide ward, that joke might just be a tiny bit too crude and close to home, so instead Draco just held Theo even closer, inhaling his scent. “You smell of hospital.”

“I think I’ll always smell of hospital. I basically live here now.” Theo clapped him on the back one more time before letting go and settling himself next to Draco on the skinny bed. “They’re letting me out soon though. Not permanently, but for a few days at a time. And I’m allowed to wander through the different wards now, as you’ve noticed. Your mother is meanly good at poker by the way. I lost all my fruit loops.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Fruit loops?”

“It’s a kind of muggle breakfast food. I find it repulsive, but it’s round and has different colours so it’s an easy substitute for real money.” Theo chuckled and pushed Draco's eyebrow down. “You have such outspoken facial expressions. I missed those.”

Theo used two fingers to pull his eyebrows back up again, and Draco used two fingers to flip him off. Just as Theo booped his nose, an annoying habit that almost a year of therapy hadn’t changed, Draco saw something move from the corner of his eye. Harry had been standing just outside the door, but seeing him this up close and personal with Theo had clearly made him turn right back around.

“Crap.” He pushed Theo’s hands away and tried to get up. That was difficult though, because an IV tube he hadn’t seen before was stuck to a pole attached to his bed. It was also attached to a tiny tube in his right arm. The idea of being chained to his bed made him very claustrophobic very fast, and he was almost ready to just rip the entire thing out of his arm when Theo stopped him.

“Draco, wait. I think you can remove that stand from the bed to make it roll, hold on.” Theo hopped out of bed and set to work on the stand with practiced fingers. He’d picked up a few things unrelated to mental health during his hospital stay. Soon enough it was loose and Draco was on the roll, but it was probably still too late to catch Harry. He wasn’t exactly fast on bare feet while wearing that stupid flimsy hospital gown that barely reached halfway over his thighs. And even if he could still catch him, what would he say? I’m sorry you had to see that? It wasn’t what it looked like? I’m not gay with Theo but I’m still gay in general? And then what? He had to watch Harry walk away in disgust?

“Now I understand what Pansy meant by zoning out.” Theo waved a hand in front of his face, pulling him back to reality. “Just go to him. From what I’ve heard Potter is very unlikely to storm out or punch you in the face, unless you start saying some very weird shit.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring. “But what if I have some very weird shit to say?”

“Then you say it while you’re ten feet apart from each other, and if he lunches at you you just scream and I’ll come help you, alright?” Theo hugged him again. Draco was very grateful that Theo didn’t ask him any invasive questions about what he wanted to say.  Theo always knew just what others needed from him, which made him such a great friend and an impossible person to say no to. “You’re going to be just fine. Now go get him tiger!”

“Please don’t ever call me that again.” Draco tried to glare at him, but he was just a bit too nervous to really pull it off. “And don’t spy on me.”

“I would never.” Theo promised while he opened the door with his fingers obviously crossed. Draco rolled his eyes and stepped outside, feeling like a right idiot with his stupid IV on wheels. Once out in the hallway he looked around, and saw that Harry hadn’t gone very far. He was just over there by the bench of a healer’s office, twiddling with his thumbs.

“Draco.” Harry looked up when he heard the squeaking of his IV wheels. Draco wasn’t sure it was worry on his face or something else, and he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it. He knew he’d probably only read things in Harry’s expression that weren’t really there. “I didn’t know you were allowed to get out of bed yet. And, ehm, I'm sorry for interrupting you and Theo before. I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

Was… Was that disguised contempt in Harry’s voice, or was he just imagining things again? Draco shook his head. That wasn’t the point right now. And even if it was contempt, noticing it wouldn’t change its existence. “He’s not technically a visitor, since he’s been in here since June. He just said so himself that he basically lives here now.” _Because Harry really wants to hear about the fact that you and Theo talked, Draco. You’re so not fucking this up at all_. “He gets really up into my personal space when I let my guard down. I don’t know how much you saw of it, but sorry.”

“Hey, no need to apologize.” Harry took a quick step forward, and Draco did the same things backwards. _Ten feet distance_. He was taking Theo’s advice to heart. “Whatever makes you happy, right?”

“Well he doesn’t. Make me happy I mean. Not in that way I mean. As friends yes, but not…. I want to, but not with him. But with men in general. I am gay.” _Well that didn’t go awful at all, you stumbling idiot_. He bit the inside of his lip so hard it bled. His right hand was wrapped around his IV pole so firmly his knuckles were completly bloodless. Harry looked very uncomfortable, and at a loss for what to say, resulting in an awkward silence that lasted half a minute, but felt more like several lifetimes.

“I… Eh, I know that. I figured after what you said at that muggle store. You know, the one where my face was on fire the entire time?” He laughed nervously, but Draco stayed silent. He was mentally preparing himself for saying even more awkward things.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you these past two weeks. I shouldn’t have, I know that. It’s just-,” _Merlin_ , did he feel stupid saying this. But then he was standing almost butt naked in a hospital hallway with a tube in his arm. He’d probably feel stupid no matter what he said. For his next words he didn’t want to be facing Harry, so he studied the green linoleum around his bare feet.  “After I said that, you… you didn’t say anything back, and I kind of psyched myself out because of that. Convinced myself you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore because it’s unbefitting. I wasn’t in a very good place but that’s no excuse for just not talking to you at all, because avoiding you is hardly going to change your opinion about it, and I’m sorry.”

“Draco.” Harry sounded a lot closer than ten feet. He was so close even, that his worn out sneakers came into view just before a finger lifted Draco’s chin. “Being gay isn’t unbefitting, I would never ever think that. That would make me a total hypocrite, as I am bisexual myself. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that right away when you came out to me, and for making you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about that in the first place.” Harry paused, and now it was his turn to gather up some courage. “I just had a difficult time talking to you when you said that because I was rather overwhelmed by the idea that I had a chance with you.”

Draco was glad for the finger still under his chin otherwise his jaw would have hit the floor. “You-, You, a _chance_ with me?”

“Yes.” Harry smiled, his undoubtedly fierce blush hidden by his dark complexion. “I like you. Quite a bit, actually.”

“You like me?” That made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. “Harry, _I_ don’t even like me. No one who knows more than two things about me likes me. Ninety five percent of my family doesn’t even like me, and they’re biologically programmed to do so. You’re not making any sense.”

“Draco, I know I have not made a lot of sense throughout my life, but I promise that me liking you is the most sensible thing I have ever done.” The finger left his chin, but as a replacement Harry cupped his whole face with both hands. Those green eyes staring into his own were so intense Draco thought he might die from how much he loved the man in front of him. And then the thought of love combined with Harry spiked his anxiety and he almost missed his next words. “ _You_ not liking yourself, now that is insensible. Because you are very likable. I can know, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, if not months. Alright?”

“Alright.” It sounded weak, and Draco didn’t really mean it. He just knew he couldn’t listen to another little speech like that without his shaky knees giving out, and he hoped that agreeing would save him from that fate. Fainting in Harry’s arms twice was more than enough. “I like you too, you know?”

“I know that now.” Harry beamed, positively _beamed_ at him and lit up the entire hallway with it. Draco suddenly felt very blessed and unworthy at the same time for being the cause of that expression. “Can I kiss you, Draco?”

“I don’t know.” His tongue was once again living his own life while his brain still tried to process the question. “Can you?”

And apparently Harry heard that as a yes, because seconds later a set of lightly chapped, full lips were pressed against his own. At some level he’d expected that to feel different. More tongue, more wildness, more passion into it. Harry had always been a very passionate person. It wasn’t though. Instead it was a soft joining of lips, achieved only because Harry tiptoed a little. And though it was soft, it still lasted nearly a minute, and each second felt like a whole new level of heaven.

It was going to be a lot harder to convince himself being gay was wrong now, when kissing Harry felt this _right_. And maybe, if he could keep doing this often enough, he might one day even stop trying to convince himself all together.

* * *

 

A shiver ran up his spine when Harry's warm arms circled around him. They were sharing what had to be their tenth kiss in five minutes. It seemed that now Harry was able to kiss him, he didn't ever want to stop. Draco didn't really have any kind of problem with that, he just sort of wished that it wasn't all happening while he was attached to an IV and wearing a hospital gown. “Draco, you are ice cold.”

“Yeah, like you have such a charming personality.” Draco shot back, but he still leaned into Harry's heat, pressing their bodies together.

“Funny.” Harry squeezed him. “But not what I meant. You should have said something.”

“I had rather a lot of other things to say, Harry, as you might remember. And after that,” he lightly brushed their lips together, the first time he'd initiated a kiss. “My mouth was occupied with other things.”

“Things I greatly enjoy.” Harry smiled against his lips before kissing them again. “But you were poisoned yesterday. So I think we shouldn't be testing your health right now.”

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to step out of Harry's embrace so they could head back to his room. Harry wasn't letting him though. In fact he sunk through his knees a bit, held on tighter and lifted him off the floor with ease. Draco screeched. “What the fuck are you doing Potter?”

“Carrying you.” Harry replied dryly as he took a hold of the IV pole and began to walk him to his bed. “I can't give you any more body heat if you're walking on your own you know.”

“I don't care. Put. Me. Down.” Draco fidgeted, but Harry was too strong for him, and also he wasn't really trying. He felt stupid, being carried like this, but it was also kind of nice, and his bed was only twenty steps away. He could survive twenty steps.

“When we’ve reached your bed I will.” Harry replied way too smugly before pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Something tells me your screeching doesn't indicate that I have to come and rescue you.” Draco groaned and buried his face in Harry's messy hair as Theo held the door to his room open, looking altogether too smug for his liking.

“Piss off Theo.”

“I sure will.” Theo replied. He saluted as they passed him. “As long as you two new lovebirds make sure you're safe.”

“I said piss off!” Draco snapped. He took his words back about Theo always knowing the right thing to do or say. Having sex with Harry was… Not something he wanted to think about _at all_. In that moment it felt like it would still take years before he could even go further than closed lipped kisses. He didn't even know how gay sex worked.

“He's gone, don't worry.” Harry put him down on the bed and Draco, suddenly very aware of how thin and revealing his hospital gown was, immediately pulled the covers up to his chest. “Sorry about that. I just really couldn't resist.”

“It's okay.” His voice was shaky, and he hoped Harry didn't notice. “It's a good thing he’s being annoying again. Means he’s getting better.”

“If you say so.” Harry said. He was studying Draco's IV pole, but Draco didn't think that was because he was actually interested in the thing. Harry opened his mouth a couple of times, and each time more nerves pooled in Draco's gut. Harry was much more experienced than him, with Cho and Ginny as exes compared to Draco's no one and nobody. Not to mention Harry wasn't raised as a prudish pureblood. “Hey Draco?”

 _Don't freak out Draco. Don't freak out._ “Yes Harry?”

“Just to make sure we don't have any more misunderstandings, but… We're not going to do anything you're not comfortable with, alright?”

“Alright.” Draco nodded, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Harry reached out for his hand and squeezed it. Draco squeezed back. “I'm going to need my time. I don't… this is all very new for me.”

“I know.” Harry hopped onto the bed and kissed his hand. “But I won't ask for anything you’re not ready to give yet. I need  nothing more than this. You.”

Draco chuckled. “Sap.”

To his unpleasant surprise that comment made Harry blush and pull away, as if he was ashamed to be called that.

“It's a good thing I like saps then.” He re-entwined their fingers and pressed his own kiss to the back of Harry's hand. That made Harry smile again, to his great relief. That relief vanished when there was a knock on the door of the room though.

”There are two aurors at the front desk to investigate your poisoning, Mr Malfoy.” A nurse announced lightly, as if that wasn't the stuff of nightmares. “I'm going to send them in in a moment.”

“I don't like aurors.” Draco bolted upright, gripping Harry's hand so hard the Gryffindors fingers would be purple in a minute. His breathing grew shaky and shallow within two seconds as his eyes went wide with panic. “I don't want them here, I don't want to see them.”

“Hey, hey it's okay Draco. You're safe, they're not going to take you away.” Harry’s tone was calm and definitely loving, but Draco barely heard him. He was freaking out way too bad.“They're only here to  find out who hurt you. They're going to help and make sure this never happens again.”

“I don't want them to. I really don't want them to, I don't want them here.” _Fuck_ , now he was crying. He didn't want to be crying. But what he didn't want most of all was aurors coming into his room. Coming into his cell, pulling him out, 'guiding’ him to the interrogation room so roughly he often fell because of it, tearing into him for hours about things he didn't know, or had already told them. They'd made him repeat his crimes for hours on end, and had listed all the hurt and hardship caused by the other inhabitants of Malfoy manor. It was going to break him, he was going to fall apart and it was going to _hurt_ and he didn't want that.

He buried his face in Harry's neck, barely aware of what he was doing. “I don't want them here.” The image of that little interrogation room was burned into his retinas. The strong odor there filled his nose. The entire memory clouded his senses and choked him up. “I don't want them here.”

The sound of a lock clicking had Draco choke out a terrified sob. He was holding Harry so tightly now he was hurting the both of them, but he didn't care. If he saw those red robes for just a second he would fall apart. He was already raffling at the edges. This wasn't something he could cope with at all.

“Easy, Draco, easy. That was me locking the door. It's just us in here.” Harry's voice sounded strained because Draco was crushing his ribcage. The Gryffindor also sounded sincere as he threaded a hand through his hair. “I’ll never allow someone near you who upsets you like this. I'm going to keep you safe. I don't know what the aurors did to you, but whatever it is they are _never_ doing it again, and that's a promise.”

Draco still held onto Harry like crazy, but his breathing became a bit less hectic. Because of that though, his crying became a bit less quiet, now that he had more air. The last time he'd cried like that had been… During one of his first interrogations. He'd been so frightened and cold there, the memory of losing Vince still so fresh in his mind, and then the endless reading had started. _Can you read this victim statement Mr. Malfoy? Do you understand what it says? Can you tell us again how you were involved in this crime?_

One of the aurors, he didn't remember his name, had had the habit of booming those questions through the room, his voice shaking with anger as if that would intimidate Draco into a confession. And it would have, if he'd had anything left to confess. He figured that like many others, the auror had suffered a personal loss on the hands of the death eaters and that he was taking it out on him. Draco hoped breaking him had brought the man some peace of mind, at least then it wouldn't have all been for nothing.

Even after all these months Draco had never told anyone about those interrogations, not even Pansy, but when Harry asked _whatever did they do to you love?_ He found himself spilling all of it. Which quite frankly wasn't much, most days in prison had looked exactly the same, but he never did stop crying which made the tale harder and longer to tell.

“Oh Draco, why didn't you tell anyone?” Harry held him close, kissing his forehead with a tenderness Draco felt completely undeserving of.

“I know my rights. They never breached protocol.” He sniffed, feeling like such a fool for overreacting like this. Now that he'd voiced his experiences, they didn't sound too awful. It was just him turning everything into something dramatic like he always did. “And no one would have cared.”

“I would have cared.” And from the way Harry said it, and the way he pulled him closer, Draco got the idea that Harry was trying to crawl into him so he could take all of his pain like the stupid hero he was.

“But it wasn't against the law.”

“Well then the law is wrong.” Harry said sternly. “You should have never been treated that way. You deserve so much better.”

 _I deserve so much worse_. That was the message burned into him after every interrogation. Harry saying the opposite one time only went to show him that he deserved worse in that department too. He was a mess. A fainting, too skinny, tired work in progress who couldn't keep his own emotions in check.

“I'm going to explain things to the, eh, people outside the room, okay?” Harry gently brushed his hair out of his face, before carefully untangling the two of them and pulling the covers over him. Draco felt like a stupid bloody five year old, but he didn't have it in him to protest. “I'll be right back, you just stay here. And I promise you no one but me or the hospital staff will enter this room.”

Then, after briefly squeezing his shoulder, Harry was gone. Draco lay on his back, pulled his knees up and stared at the ceiling. Despite Harry being gone he still felt his panic attack ease away, mostly because he trusted the Gryffindor to keep his promise. Now that the aurors were no longer a threat, he could go back to suppressing those memories. That probably wasn't the most healthy coping mechanism ever but being in a constant state of panic wasn't healthy either.

As his breathing eased, he became more aware of something else; Harry had _kissed him_ . He wasn't just not a homophobe, he _liked him_. Either that, or he was just a very good liar, but somehow Draco doubted that.

As Harry talked to the people outside, he settled back into his pillows. Sleep began to tug at his senses after a while, just as a smile tugged on his lips. The past day had had so many ups and downs, but it was definitely up now. When Harry entered the room after about ten minutes, he had sunken away into an almost peaceful slumber.

“Don't fall asleep silly.” Harry opened his eyes with a kiss. Draco could get used to that. “We made a compromise. A nurse is going to ask you some questions now. Apparently it cannot wait because the meds you got against the poison work best with lots of sleep, so when you'll fall asleep you'll be gone for at least half a day.”

“Alright.” He was still very sleepy, and blamed it on that when he grabbed a hold of one of Harry's arms and pressed his face against the warm skin like it was a stuffed animal. “Ask away.”

“I only have one question for you, Mr. Malfoy.” A nurse he hadn't noticed before said. He turned half an eye to her and listened. “Do you know anyone who might want to hurt you like this?”

He snorted. “Plenty. I burn death threats as a breakfast ritual. But I never open those letters so I have no idea who sent them. I even got a cursed piece of jewellery in the mail once, but I don't know who sent that either.”

None of the people in the room made a single sound for several minutes when he was done talking. Draco secretly hoped that meant he could sleep now, but given the tense atmosphere that probably wasn't the case.

“Draco…” Harry's hand was back in his hair, stroking it as he seemed to struggle to find the words. Draco refused to look at him, scared to meet pity in his eyes. “I feel like I'm repeating myself, but why did you never tell anyone?”

“'T wasn't a secret. I figure most of my housemates and some teachers know, but what can they do? Burn the letters for me? That's hardly any help.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it doesn't matter. That is all I know about those letters. And as for who wants to see me dead? Try the whole of magic society minus five people or something.”

“I can name at least twenty people who don’t just want you to stay alive, but who would fight for your life too.” Harry gripped his shoulder and tried to make him look up but Draco refused. “You're selling yourself short. Not that many people hate you like that.”

“But I think Draco might hate himself like that.” The surprise of hearing Pansy's voice nearly made him look up, but not quite. His head buried in Harry's arm was a too nice place to be. “Also, I _have_ been keeping track of some of his hate mail, so I can help with that after I give my disaster a hug and a punch in the face.”

Draco couldn't help but smile as quick steps approached his bed and he was hugged before a light elbow landed between his ribs. “You owe me a very big apology, mister. Also, I totally told you so.”

“You did.” He reached back blindly, found Pansy's arm and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. And thank you.”

“You're very fucking welcome, arsehole.” Pansy smacked him, and then left the room.

“I don't think I will ever understand that woman.” Harry muttered as he shook his head.

“No one ever will.” Draco chuckled, before yawning against Harry's arm. “'M sorry for… things. And thank you for…”

“Other things.” Harry assisted, as he positioned himself on the bed next to Draco. “You're very fucking welcome twice, babe.” Harry kissed his forehead. Draco wanted to mumble something about the nickname, but before he could get anything across his lips his mind had gone off to dreamland. “Now sleep tight, Draco. Get better. I'll keep you safe.”

And after another forehead kiss, Harry settled next to Draco, and without meaning to, five minutes later they were dreaming together. Both of their faces blissfully happy.


	12. Epilogue

“You’re sure it’s going to be fine, right?” Draco fidgeted with the necklace Harry had given him to celebrate the moment he had been discharged from hospital. It was a silver rod of Asclepius, with a tiny snake that could be brought to life with a charm. As far as a piece of jewelry could be, it was pretty cute. “I don’t want to ruin your godson’s first birthday because people didn’t know I was coming. Maybe it’s best if I stay here.”

“You are doing no such thing.” Harry grabbed his hands and used them to pull him closer, kissing him firmly on the lips. “I want to have you there, Draco. Everyone knows that, and if they have a problem with it then they can all piss off, alright?”

To Draco that did not sound like an adequate solution. “But I never even-”

“Piss. Off. They can do that and your doubts can do that too. I get that you’re stressed but it’s just a small party and I want you to meet my family, alright?” Harry stood on his toes and wrapped an arm around his neck. Draco tried to be annoyed by the literal weight resting on his shoulders, but the weight in question was just a tiny bit too cute. Stupid Potter. “It’s only fair, I already met yours.”

“You only met mother. Pansy doesn’t count because you already knew her.” Draco glared at his boyfriend because really, this was just so unfair. There shoudn’t be so many Weasley’s. There had to be a law against that. “You’re a cheat.”

“I am not.” Harry stuck out his tongue, and Draco pulled his nose up over such childishness. Not that he didn’t secretly like it, but Harry wasn’t to know. He was cocky enough as it was. “It’s not my fault I got adopted by a family of nine.”

“Well it’s not my fault ninety five percent of my family is in jail or on long term holiday in countries without an extradition treaty with the United Kingdom. You just have no idea how beautiful the mountains of  Kyrgyzstan really are.” He stuck his nose up and held it there for about two seconds before they both burst out laughing. “Yeah alright so my family mostly consists out of dicks. I’ll admit it. But it’s still no fair that yours is so much bigger than mine! And I just realized what that sounded like and if you laugh I will kick you!”

But of course Harry did laugh, so Draco kicked him. “Ouch! Ouch! Stop it!” 

“Only if you stop not acknowledging the fact that I have very legitimate reasons to be nervous about this birthday party, you twat.” Draco shoved him, but made up for it seconds later with a kiss. “You think Pansy is scary? Imagine Mrs. Weasley threatening you. I will die.”

“You will not die babe, I’ll make sure of it.” Harry chuckled and rested his head against Draco’s chest. “And the Weasley’s will be nice to you, I promise. They know how happy you make me. I don’t think I ever told you but remember last Christmas when you wrote me that card? When I got it, that was the first time I smiled since arriving there. And they saw that and they know now that that was because of you, alright? They love me and they are not going to try to take you away because you are the only one who makes me this happy.” 

Draco took a sudden deep breath and crushed Harry against his chest. Damn Harry and his stupid free way of talking, making Darco feel things like  _ love  _ and  _ happiness _ . They were so unbefitting of his aesthetic, just like the tears currently taking up residence in his eyes. “I hate you.” 

“Awwww, babe, I hate you too.” Harry grinned and kissed him squarely on the lips. “Now let’s go eat cake with a toddler. And I’ll make sure to bring my sword and chase any evil oranges away. You’ll be safe I promise.”

Draco sighed. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me.” Harry replied with a shit eating grin.

“Yeah I don’t know why I do that either.” He sighed again, fighting hard to keep a neutral face and failing even harder. But then what had he expected when Harry was looking at him with his stupid puppy eyes? “I just know I do.”

* * *

 

“Dlagon!”

“No not dragon,  _ Draco _ . Do I need to spell it out for you?” Draco did not know how he had ended up here, at the edge of the Weasley’s garden while everyone else was still inside. Though really he did know, because he’d fled the masses of people at the first opportunity. He had introduced himself and shared a couple awkward words with some people, but after Harry had disappeared from sight Draco had left too. The only thing that puzzled him was why he was standing outside with the birthday boy in his arms. The kid had ran up to him a minute before shouting  _ Dragon! _ just before tackling him. 

“Dlagon.” The child repeated, before he let out a yawn and rested his tiny head on Draco’s shoulder. “Hally tesure, you dlagon.” 

“No, me  _ Draco _ .” He sighed, annoyed with himself for being so endeared by the kid. He wasn’t supposed to like children, he’d always said so. “And I don’t know who Hally Tesure is, but I’m sure you’re butchering her name too.”

“Harry is the treasure.” Draco spun on his heels and was faced with a shy smile from his boyfriend. “You’re the dragon and Harry is the treasure. That’s what he’s trying to say. Ginny taught him that before sending Teddy to you.” 

“Oh.” Now they were both blushing, which felt rather stupid. It also felt rather nice and amazing and warm but Draco was still in denial about those feelings. His reputation as in-control ice prince was damaged enough as it was. “Why… Why did she teach him that?”

“Because it’s true. Or at least it feels true to me.” Harry, feeling too awkward to keep looking Draco in the eye, stepped closer and buried his face between his godson and Draco’s chest, hugging them both. “I talked to Ginny when you were at the hospital, still out cold. About how I couldn’t lose you because I didn’t want to be alone again. I mean, I know I have friends, amazing friends even, but… Sometimes I feel like I’m falling apart and somehow being around  you makes that stop. I don’t know, it probably sounds stupid. But what Ginny took from that is that you protect me from myself and the outside world and the play on the name was too easy. And she’s probably also just trying to embarrass me.”

“Oh.” Draco had a difficult time getting his thoughts straight, maybe because they were all so gay, and maybe because Harry was nuzzling at his neck. Or maybe it was both. “That’s… The first acceptable reason I’ve heard for calling me dragon. I hate that nickname.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably another reason why Ginny did it.” Harry chuckled and straightened himself so he could look Draco in the eye again. “Are you alright here, with all the Weasley’s?”

“I’m fine. This isn’t exactly a hobby of mine but I’ll survive.” Draco shrugged, just like Harry happy about the subject change. He wasn’t made for so much emotional talking. “The cake is pretty nice.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “You ate the cake?”

“I may have stolen a bit when no one was looking.” Harry gaped at him, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Immediately nerves spiked in Draco’s gut. “I’m sorry I was hungry! I won’t do it again I promise.”

“You take that promise back right this moment Draco Lucius Malfoy.” Harry slowly approached him with a threatening finger, looking almost scary if it hadn’t been for the pride in his eyes. Just as Draco wanted to take a step back, his shirt collar was captured and suddenly they were kissing. “You can eat every and all cakes in the universe for the rest of your life without asking, you understand?”

Draco nodded, just as the birthday boy still resting on his hip screamed “Cake!”

“I understand.” Draco bit his lip, not sure how to feel now. Eating had been problematic for him since forever, but ever since Harry had kissed him things had gotten easier. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. Pansy and Harry knew that, which was why they almost never brought it up either. That was why Draco had almost managed to forget about it as he’d sneaked in some bites of cake with one hand, while the other had been firmly wrapped around Harry. “But I don’t-”

“Don’t want to talk about it, I know. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you.” Harry kissed him with a smile. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than watching you get better.”

And Draco didn’t have anything to say to that, so he kept quiet and kissed Harry. The gesture probably didn’t convey all the love he felt for Harry but that didn’t matter. He had a whole lifetime left to get that message across. 

“Dlagon cake?” They both laughed as they watched Teddy’s excited face. 

“Yes Teddy,  _ Draco _ will get you cake.”

“Oh give up on the name already, love.” Harry wrapped an arm around his waist and together they headed back to the house. “Once Ginny names something it sticks forever.”

“Well it better bloody not.” Draco pulled his nose up in partially faked disgust. “I don’t want to go through life as Dlagon Malfoy.”

Harry “Maybe not Dlagon Malfoy, but Dlagon Pottel has a nice ring to it.”

Draco gave Harry a pointed look. “If you’re going to propose to me Harry, you have to do better than that.”

“Oi! I thought I was the treasure in this story. You should be the one to do the proposing.” 

“Then why do I have to take your name?”

Harry grinned and bounced ahead of him with an energy Draco had never seen before. Things really were changing. “Because my name is  _ awesome _ .”

Though some things would always stay the same. “You’re a disaster, Harry.”

“But you still love me, right?” 

“Yes I do.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes at the sight of Harry’s way to happy grin. “I always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s it! The longest fic I ever wrote I spend more time on this than on my high school exams, so I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> I’d like to take a moment to thank the mods and the super nice people in the BB discord chat, because without them I would not have finished this at all. I had some of the hardest months of my life depression-wise while writing this fic, and I have thought of quitting more than once. Without my amazing betas, E’s friendship and the patience of the mods this all would still be some unfinished project in a dusty google docs file, so please thank them if you liked reading this (and I really hoped you did). 
> 
> I’m not sure if I am made for writing long fics, but I am glad I tried at the very least. Please leave a comment and share your thoughts below, that would mean the world to me<3
> 
> And you can find the artist here!
> 
> [Starwqrs](http://starwqrs.tumblr.com)


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